NEW CHAPTER! Or rather, NEW **FIRST** CHAPTER!

This "first chapter" was originally an Author's Note, briefly explaining the history and background to the second chapter, which was originally a "preview" to this whole fanfic, which had been a birthday present for the wonderful magfreak. I had said at the time, that it would be a story I would come back to. And so it is, and so it shall.

However, for anyone reading this for the first time now (or if you've forgotten the Author's Note) here is a brief synopsis to this story. Magfreak and I were one day tossing ideas back and forth about various AU worlds in which Tom and Sybil's romance could play out. We both loved the idea of Tom being an "indoor" servant, imagining how much more difficult the sexual tension would be, since they would both be under the same roof, rather than have a garage and several yards between house and chauffeur's cottage separating them. THEN, magfreak suggested an idea where Tom was Sybil's butler, but Sybil was an heiress, who put all her focus on the Suffrage Movement, rather than finding a husband. And so this story was born, though some interesting character changes had to be made to make it work. And that included making Sybil the daughter of Harold Levinson, rather than Cora and Robert Crawley. Also, the Crawleys, while a family of respectable means in Society (landed gentry) are NOT aristocrats, and Robert IS NOT the Earl of Grantham. I know it may be odd to read this story and hear Sybil refer to her "great-aunt Violet" rather than her grandmother, but hopefully with time as you read it, the changes will catch on :oP

Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this NEW FIRST CHAPTER, which yes, is long (I just can't write short) but it provides all of the background information about Sybil's character, and how she got to where she is, thus setting everything up for "the good stuff", where she and Tom interact (because that's what we all love, amiright?) ALSO, it should be noted that while this story begins with a "T" rating...it will, at some point, be bumped up to "M"...I hope that's ok ;o)

Alright, I've rambled enough! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy! And without further ado...

Scandal on Eaton Square
by The Yankee Countess

Chapter One
"The Levinson Girl"

In tearooms and ballrooms and all points in between, people whispered the story, adding bits and pieces to it as they went, as was the custom of London gossip.

The story had originally been told as a cautionary tale, one delivered by anxious governesses and marriage-minded mamas as a means to warn their charges and daughters to "toe the line" and stay within the bounds of Society, or else they too would suffer the "consequences" of such a scandalous union. "Take care my dear, or else you'll end up just like that Levinson girl!"

However, as was the way of gossip (especially gossip spread amongst the young) the cautionary tale soon became a whispered romance, a story of "forbidden love", that many a girl would swoon and sigh over in the company of her friends, when her mother or governess wasn't within earshot. The story had gone through several transformations, each more elaborate than the last. The most recent version that was being spoken now depicted the young lady as the daughter of an aristocrat, and the man in question as a vagabond who had broken into her house with the intentions of stealing a gold snuff box, but instead ended up stealing the girl's heart.

For those that knew the story, the true story, it was so strange (and downright laughable) to hear all the additional details that had been tacked onto it, especially when the story on what had really happened was scandalous enough in its own right, and hardly needed the extras of "a pistol duel at dawn" or "the couple meeting for secret midnight rendezvous in Kew Gardens".

"It would be the most sensational novel!" someone had whispered, to which many women nodded their heads in agreement, though no one dared to pick up a pen and attempt to write it…that is, not until 1954, when someone who had witnessed the romance unfold, who had seen the scandal play out, and who did in fact know the couple in question, sat down before a typewriter and decided to set the record straight…

The first thing that needed to be corrected was details about who the people were—really, were.

Sybil Levinson was not the daughter of an aristocrat, for one (though she did have a connection to an aristocratic family, much to their own personal shame and horror), but she did come from a family of great fortune. Miss Sybil Levinson was born in New York, in February of 1892, the only child of Harold and Olivia Levinson, and granddaughter of Isidore Levinson, a man who had made his fortune as a dry goods merchant in Cincinnati, during the American Civil War.

Perhaps Sybil was destined for these "outlandish stories", as even when she was an infant, "tall tales" were spun about her birth. It was said that unlike other babies, who enter this world screaming and crying, she entered it with laughter and a bright, beautiful smile on her face. She certainly had a way of making people smile whenever they looked upon her. She was declared by many as "the most beautiful baby to ever be beheld!", with round rosy cheeks and dazzling blue eyes, a feature she had inherited from her grandmother. Her parents certainly thought this to be true, and so had dozens if not hundreds of photographs taken of her, photographs that were slapped all over the Society Section of several prominent New York newspapers. The Levinsons were not Rockefellers, Astors, or Guggenheims, but they were not a family to sneer at, so the papers welcomed the photographs and printed the announcement of little Miss Sybil's birth, and for several weeks straight, their Park Avenue mansion was flooded with cards and gifts congratulating the couple. True, Sybil was not the "desired son" that so many men of great fortune longed to have; an heir to take over his father's empire. But Harold didn't care about that, such notions were "old fashioned" and mattered more to the people his sister had married into, than a modern American man like himself. Besides, Olivia wasn't even twenty-five, there were still plenty of opportunities for more children—or so he had thought.

But the truth was that the birth of her daughter had taken a great toll on Olivia's health.

Olivia was quite petite, and her health had always been of a delicate nature. During the final month of her pregnancy she was confined to bed rest, and the doctors even wondered if she would survive the labor. But survive it she did, though it had left her in a weakened state.

Sybil was barely six years old, when her mother's health succumbed at last to an outbreak of Typhoid fever. She had been sent away from her home to Rhode Island where her grandmother resided, and it was while in her care that she learned the sad news. Poor Harold was inconsolable; Olivia had been the light of his life, in fact he had often called her "his north star", because she was the one who could always guide him in doing what was best and right. Now that his light was gone and his star had faded, who was to guide him? Olivia's death had also taken place but a few months after his father had died, thus thrusting the Levinson Empire onto Harold's shoulders. How was he going to manage leading a demanding business and the rearing of a small child? True, there were servants and nannies who could be brought in to do just that, but even so, a child needed a mother, or at the very least, a "mother-like figure" in her life.

It was his mother's suggestion that he reach out to his sister for help in this matter.

Cora Levinson was Harold's only other sibling. In the spring of 1886, Isidore and Martha decided to take advantage of what was now being called "the buccaneer season", and send Cora to London with hopes that she would "snag a titled husband", amongst England's aristocratic, but impoverished, nobility. After all, if the Vanderbilts could do it, why not the Levinsons? However, things did not go according to plan, at least not to what Isidore and Martha had been expecting. Cora did meet someone, and did fall in love, and did marry! But he was not a man with a title.

Robert Crawley was a man of good birth and breeding, as judged by his peers at the time, but he was not the desired aristocrat. He was what was called "good landed gentry", which was a step below the aristocrats. His family had land and some money, though his estate was not a grand castle or palace like those of the nobility. From Robert's perspective, the match was brilliant for him, because Cora's dowry would not only set the two of them and any children that they had up for a good many, many years, but it would also enhance and enrich the estate and land surrounding it, thus making Robert one of the wealthier men of his position in English society, something that many of his peers who did have titles would look upon with envy for years to come.

The Levinsons did not support the match, at least not in the beginning. Cora was supposed to marry an earl, or a marquis, or if they were truly lucky, a duke! However, upon seeing how happy she was with her choice, and upon seeing that love she had for Robert reflected by him for her, Isidore finally gave his blessing to the union, and before the year was over, the two were married with all the pomp and circumstance as was expected by Society, even if Robert Crawley did lack a title and his wife was another "ghastly American". That was certainly how Robert's own mother saw the match.

Violet Crawley was a bitter woman. She was bitter because her son had come so close to joining that exclusive club of English nobility, only to have it ripped away from him when her cousin, the Earl of Grantham, decided at the age of seventy-two to marry again, a woman forty years his junior, and of course, she was able to do what his wife of fifty-two years could not, which was provide him with a son and heir. Had this not happened, Robert would have inherited the earldom and become the next Earl of Grantham.

Violet would have much preferred her son marry a woman of noble rank than a woman of great fortune, if she had to make the choice between the two. Unlike the Levinsons, who prided themselves on being "modern", Violet was much, much more "traditional", and thought the world was spinning quickly to the ninth circle of hell, the more and more these foreigners came and invested in England, both its enterprises, and its peerage. She couldn't even rely on her daughter, Rosamond, to marry some viscount or baronet; no, instead she married a banker (a very successful one who set her up nicely) but still…a banker? Where had she gone wrong with the rearing of her children?

In truth, Violet Crawley was the only reason Harold was hesitant about sending his daughter to live with his sister and brother-in-law. He had gotten to know Robert over the years, since his marriage to Cora, and the two men got along fairly well. Robert and Cora had two children of their own, also daughters. Mary was the eldest, born in 1889; a striking, dark-haired beauty, who one would say had more of her grandmother in her than either of her parents, however Mary adored Sybil, and the first time she saw her little cousin (when Sybil was three), Mary cooed over the girl, sitting her on her lap and reading to her. Cora and Robert's younger daughter, Edith, resembled Robert's father and sister more in her features and coloring; she had copper-colored hair, and was a little more timid than Mary. But she was only a few months older than Sybil, and two little girls got along wonderfully upon their first meeting, sharing dolls and holding hands. And since that first encounter, Sybil had seen her cousins two more times, and each time the girls always laughed and played well, acting more like sisters than cousins, if truth be told. And so while Harold was reluctant about his mother's suggestion, in letting Cora help in Sybil's rearing, he knew in the end it was the right decision.

Because Sybil was a child of light and love, who delighted in being around other people (and they too were delighted by being around her). And better for her to be in a home with other children, raised by a loving aunt and uncle who would be there to watch and help her as she grew, rather than a father weighed down by the burdens of business and enterprise. He prayed she would not resent him, and he was prepared to go to battle with anyone who would dare suggest that he didn't love his daughter. He would argue and say that it was because he loved her, that he was doing this for her because he believed it best—for her.

Sybil didn't see it that way at first, understandably. Even though her father had prepared her for this transition as best a man could with a six-year-old, she still felt like he was abandoning her when after their two-week stay in Yorkshire at her aunt and uncle's, it was time for him to return to New York…without her.

For three days and nights, Sybil cried and cried; she cried at this more than when her mother had passed away, which made her cry even harder because she thought herself a terrible child. She must be! Why else would her father not want to have anything to do with her? But her Auntie Cora held her tightly, rocking her back and forth and murmuring words of love and reassurance in that familiar accent that would always remind her of home. And after a week, while she still missed her father greatly, things started to look brighter.

Sybil came to see her cousins as sisters, and they her. Sybil was also a blessed balm for both Mary and Edith, who Cora was convinced would have spent their entire lives squabbling back and forth, had not Sybil stepped in to play peacemaker. And try as they might, Robert and Cora were unable to have more children, yet they didn't mind, for in many ways, Sybil was that third child they never had. Even Violet came around to the girl, though she did purse her lips in disapproval on many occasions at Sybil's boundless energy, something which she muttered "her American wildness".

The Crawleys lived close to Ripon, which was in the shadow of Downton Abbey, the vast estate that would have been Robert's, if his cousin had not produced an heir. Personally, Robert was grateful that the earldom had passed him by, though he would never admit this to his mother. Even with Cora's vast fortune, he did not think it would have been enough to save that place from its inevitable destitution. The girls were educated in Yorkshire, including Sybil, who by the age of nine sounded every bit like her cousins, with the exception of her pronunciation on a few words. Harold would visit as often as he could, and was always amazed with how "English" she was sounding, though in truth, it shouldn't have come as a surprise since this was the land that was now her home.

Sybil would also travel to New York every summer, sometimes with her aunt and uncle and cousins, sometimes by herself (with a paid companion, of course). She would stay anywhere between six to eight weeks, and at least three of those weeks would be spent in Newport, with her grandmother Martha.

As for Martha, she was quite pleased with how Sybil was growing. Perhaps her granddaughter would be that great link between American fortitude and English custom? She doted on all her granddaughters, but she did have a special interest in Sybil. Besides, if things continued as they were going from the looks of things, Sybil would one day inherit everything connected to the Levinson name.

Robert's sister also took a special interest in Sybil, though for different reasons. Marmaduke, Rosamond's now late husband, had been very successful financially, and had set up his wife quite nicely in London's fashionable and respectable, Eaton Square. However, not even ten years into their marriage, did Marmaduke pass, leaving everything to his wife. Rosamond had no children (something which Violet wondered to be the fault of her daughter, more so than her daughter's husband), and so while Rosamond doted on all her nieces, her heart did go out to Sybil simply in the sense that she had no mother. Cora, bless her, did everything she could to make sure Sybil didn't lack for love, but the truth was that Cora was a mother first to Mary and Edith, and so to help "relieve" some of the maternal burdens she might feel in trying to balance that love between her two daughters and her niece, Rosamond would sometimes step in and offer to take Sybil for a few days or weeks when her schooling would allow, and have her stay with her in London.

It was during one of these visits that Sybil was "exposed" to The Cause.

Sybil was eleven at the time, and had been told by Mrs. Hughes, her aunt's housekeeper, that she was not to disturb her aunt or her aunt's guests, who were having tea in the drawing room. However, this was a bit of an open invitation for Sybil to spy, as her curiosity always seemed to get the better of her. And so she tipped-toed to the door and peered through the keyhole at the vast number of ladies, all sitting and talking and voicing opinions about this and that, the words "men", "prime minister", and "idiots" being repeated more than any other. Sybil also noticed the colorful green, white, and purple sashes some of those women wore, sashes she had seen some women wear in her visits to the park. Who were these women? What were they discussing? And how, perhaps, could she learn more?

Well, honesty is the best policy, so her Aunt Cora had always told her. So that evening, after dinner while Sybil was sitting in the drawing room with her Aunt Rosamond, trying (and groaning) at her silly needlepoint which was not turning out at all how it should, she asked, "Who were the ladies you were hosting for tea, Auntie?"

Rosamond looked up from her own needlepoint, rather surprised by Sybil's question. However, unlike Violet, Rosamond had no shame in The Cause, and therefore saw no harm in telling her niece the truth.

"They are friends of mine; we were discussing ways in which we can better inform the public about the need for giving women the vote."

Sybil's brow furrowed at this. "The vote?"

Now it was Rosamond's turn to frown. "Yes, my dear. Hasn't your school discussed this matter?"

Sybil shook her head, suddenly feeling both embarrassed by her lack of knowledge, as well as eager to learn more. "Please, Auntie, will you tell me?"

Rosamond sighed and set her needlepoint down, to which Sybil all too eagerly did the same. "Let me start by asking you this," she began. "The Prime Minister…he and his party are elected to hold office and make decisions on behalf of Britain. And as citizens, it is the right of the people to vote on whom that party and leader shall be."

Sybil nodded her head, understanding so far.

"However, not all citizens can make that decision. Only men…and therefore also, boys who will grow up to become men one day…may vote. Women, and that also means girls like yourself…cannot."

Sybil frowned at this. "But…but that's not fair."

"Exactly!" Rosamond declared, rather passionately. She was smiling at her niece, her answer thus proving how silly it was that women were being denied this "basic right". "Are we not citizens too, Sybil?"

She nodded her head, feeling her aunt's passion rise up within her.

"And therefore, as such, should we also have the right to be heard when our country's leaders make decisions that will affect us all?"

Sybil suddenly leapt to her feet. "Yes!"

"Then THAT is what we are doing. My friends—we are called 'suffragettes'—" Rosamond continued to explain. "Are trying to change the law, so that women…and girls like yourself and your cousins, may one day have the chance to vote and help make decisions in how Britain should be governed."

Sybil was in awe, and the next day, when her aunt's friends returned for another meeting, she did not stay out of the drawing, despite Mrs. Hughes' warning. Instead, she marched right in, catching her aunt by surprise, as well as the other ladies gathered.

"And who is this little lady?" one of the women asked, though her smile was kind as she looked at Sybil.

Before Rosamond could say anything (including an apology for the interruption) Sybil turned to the woman who had spoken, extending her hand in greeting and smiling back, "I'm Sybil Levinson; I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Oh my!" the woman gasped, before tittering behind her gloved hand, thus signaling other women to join her. "What an adorable child! Who is she, my dear Rosamond?"

Rosamond blushed and placed her hands on Sybil's shoulders. "My niece; she lives with my brother and his wife."

Sybil nodded her head, and being the brash American she was by birth, saw no need to be discreet in her parentage. "My father is my Auntie Cora's brother. My mother died when I was six, so Papa sent me to live with my aunt and uncle and cousins in Yorkshire."

"Oh how sad," the lady sympathized at hearing about the death of Sybil's mother. "But how kind and generous of her your aunt and uncle."

Sybil beamed at this, completely oblivious to several ladies who were whispering behind their gloved hands.

"My dear," Rosamond cleared her throat, giving Sybil a pointed look.

Sybil bit her lip and blushed, knowing that what she had done was rather rude, barging in and interrupting the meeting, however after her aunt's story from the previous evening, Sybil was eager to learn more, and so resorted to what Violet would later call "a rather dirty tactic" on her part, and asked aloud, "oh please, Auntie Rosamond, may I stay? I think it's important that girls have the vote, just like boys!"

"Oh!" the woman in front of Sybil gasped, before grinning and lifting her hands to applaud the child's words. "Here, here! Oh if only all children were as eager as you, my dear." She turned to Rosamond then and nodded her head in approval. "Let the child stay; after all, it is her generation we are fighting for, is it not?"

Rosamond sighed but put on a smile and nodded her head, though she did give Sybil a look that warned her to be on her very best behavior now that she had been invited to stay.

"Sybil, sit by me," the grand lady to whom she had greeted instructed. "I am Lady Loxley, but you may call me Lady Mae."

And so it began. Sybil's fascination with the Suffrage Movement happened that very day, only to continue for years and years to come, much to the horror of Violet Crawley, who naturally blamed Rosamond.

Violet tried to steer Sybil "back to the right path", insisting that she be allowed to sponsor Sybil for her coming out season, as she grew and approached the age of eighteen. The Crawleys may not be nobility, but they weren't nobodies in Society, and Violet knew that all three girls would attract distinguished gentlemen.

Sybil, however, couldn't care less about the matter. While many girls, including her cousin Edith, were eagerly looking forward to the upcoming season, the only thing Sybil was looking forward to, was the chance to be in London and again be reunited with her aunt's suffragette friends, whom Sybil had long since come to see as her own, as well.

Mary had had a very successful coming out, and had been the talk of Society during her season. There were several gentlemen who had asked for her hand, including (so it was rumored) the present Earl of Grantham! Yet Mary, while she could not deny she did take delight in all the attention they gave her, had no interest in marrying any of them, even the handsome Duke of Crowborough, much to her grandmother's annoyance. No, of all the men Mary fancied, it was a solicitor from Manchester who won her heart.

Matthew Crawley, another distant cousin (even further removed from the earldom than Robert) had met Mary and the rest of the Crawleys when he had been called in by the present earl at Downton Abbey, to speak about Downton's financial troubles. His firm in Manchester had a smaller office in Ripon, so it was while Matthew was working there that he crossed paths with Robert and Cora's eldest (quite literally) while he was walking his bicycle and happened to come across the lovely Mary.

Sybil liked Matthew very much, and was delighted to learn that Mary had accepted his proposal after a year of courtship. There was a great deal of disappointment amongst the bachelors that season, when Mary and Matthew's engagement was announced in the papers, and that also included Violet (though she did think Matthew a very nice young man…for a solicitor).

That left Edith for Violet to put all her hopes upon, and Edith, while very pretty, was a bit shyer than her sister, and not as popular as Mary had been amongst the noble bucks.

On the evening of Sybil and Edith's coming out ball, Edith nervously sat next to Sybil, who tried to calm her cousin by resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, wishing with all her might that she could ease her anxiety. Sybil hated that she was being asked to dance more so than Edith, especially since she truly wasn't interested in "making a match". Yet there was one gentleman who asked Edith to dance, an older gentleman yes, but he had kind eyes and a warm smile, and Edith didn't seem to mind in the slightest, she was just happy to no longer be a wallflower at her own ball! Violet must have noticed something between them as well, because she inquired the next day about this man whom Edith had danced with, learning that he was a baronet, a Sir Anthony Strallan of Locksley Park.

That had been the spring of 1910. By the autumn of 1911, Sir Anthony finally got up the nerve to ask for Edith's hand in marriage. The proposal was a bit shocking (after all, the man was twenty-five years her senior, and Edith was barely twenty). But it was plain to see how happy the two of them were when in each other's company, and Violet's only protest about the match was that Sir Anthony was not a duke. Still, her complaints weren't too loud, especially since in her mind, a baronet was a great deal better than a solicitor. And while Violet wanted to give her granddaughter a lavish wedding during the height of the season in the following summer, Edith and Sir Anthony did not feel like waiting so long. Instead, the wedding took place in March, on a rather cold and miserable day, but the couple did not mind in the slightest.

And in hindsight…it was a very good thing that Edith and Sir Anthony had insisted that the wedding be in March and not in June, for if they had waited, Robert and Cora would not have been there to celebrate with their daughter. Because that April, in 1912, Robert and Cora Crawley had booked passage on the Titanic.

With both daughters married, the couple found themselves sighing over the romantic days of their youth, and so decided to embark on a second honeymoon at long last. Sybil traveled with them to London, and was once again staying with her aunt on Eaton Square while Robert and Cora journeyed on to Southampton to board the majestic ship which everyone claimed to be unsinkable. Six days later, Sybil awoke to the sound of Mrs. Hughes pounding on her door, and upon opening the door gasped at the newspaper that was thrust into her hands by the housekeeper.

TITANIC SINKS; GREAT LOSS OF LIFE

Sybil reached out and gripped Mrs. Hughes' arm, her eyes wide and her fingers trembling as she took in the news. Her aunt and uncle...

"Has Aunt Rosamond seen this?" she managed to whisper, when she could find her voice.

"I...I haven't had the chance to tell her yet..." Mrs. Hughes confessed, swallowing back the tears that threatened to pour forth.

Sybil took a long, deep breath, and straightened herself, folding the paper carefully in her hands. "I'll go and wake her," she murmured. "Have one of the maids bring some coffee..."

"I'll bring it myself," Mrs. Hughes said with determination, before squeezing Sybil's shoulder, as if trying to give the young woman strength to go and do what she had to do. They didn't know the details of course. After all, it was possible for her aunt and uncle to be safe, having been able to make it to a lifeboat in time. But dread filled Sybil's heart with each step that she took towards her aunt's bedroom, and she had to reach out and grip the wall several times to catch her breath and steady her feet.

Rosamond handled the news much better than Sybil had expected. She didn't even bother waiting for Mrs. Hughes to bring in the coffee, she threw on her dressing gown and marched down the stairs, going directly to the study and shutting the door. Sybil followed but a few minutes later, and heard her aunt talking on the telephone (which had been installed just a few days ago, shortly after Sybil had arrived). This was the first time Sybil had seen (or in this case, heard) her aunt use it, and she listened as her aunt calmly telephoned Mr. Murray, who Sybil knew to be the Crawley family's solicitor. After speaking with Murray, Rosamond telephoned both Mary and Edith, and then finally, last but not least, her mother (which had been a very difficult conversation from what Sybil could hear, filled with her aunt repeating several times, "Mama, I don't know!").

When the conversation was over, Sybil entered the study, and Mrs. Hughes brought the coffee to them there. They sat and drank in silence, staring at the telephone, waiting to hear back from Murray, to learn whatever information he had managed to gather.

They didn't have to wait very long. The hour had not even finished, when the telephone made a shrill ring, and after a single beat, Rosamond drew a deep breath and lifted the receiver and listened...before closing her eyes, her face betraying her emotions, while her voice continued to remain steady and calm.

Both Robert and Cora Crawley had perished.

The next few weeks were very difficult, and for different reasons.

A memorial service was held in London, as well as back in Yorkshire. Sybil attended both, and clung to the arms of her cousins for support, both of whom seemed to be numb with shock from the truth.

Edith wore her grief a little more; she was always the more visibly emotional of the two. Mary, like her grandmother, adopted a cool air, holding her head high and doing her best to hide her tears. Matthew and Sir Anthony were also in shock, though they stood silently by their wives, doing their best to appear stoic and provide whatever comfort they could bring at such a time. But it was in each other, where the three girls found strength during this sad and troubling moment.

"And now what will you do, Sybil?" Mary had asked, during the luncheon that followed the service in Yorkshire.

Sybil knew what her cousin was asking, and it was the same question she had been silently asking herself ever since the news had broke. Where was she going to live, now that her aunt and uncle were dead?

Sybil had turned twenty in February, and even though she was out in Society, she was still viewed to be "too young" to set up a home on her own, at least not until after she turned twenty-one.

"There's plenty of room for you at Locksley!" Edith declared, turning and offering both a kind and eager smile at her cousin.

Mary rolled her eyes. "What makes you think she would want to stay with you?"

Edith glared back at her sister. "You think she would rather stay with you in Manchester?"

Sybil groaned and opened her mouth to bring this silly argument to a close before it could truly get started, however she was interrupted by her great-aunt, who all but thundered, "don't be ridiculous, either of you!" she fixed Sybil with a firm look then. "The child shall stay with me, of course."

Sybil paled at the declaration and looked at her cousins for help. She was fond of her great-aunt Violet, or she had certainly learned to grow fond of the woman as she had gotten older, but...to live with her? To be forced to follow her great-aunt's rules? Because Sybil knew what Violet would do, she would make Sybil her latest project, and immediately go about the business of trying to find a husband for Sybil, and if she could have her way, she wouldn't stop at a duke, but try to somehow thrust Sybil upon the Prince of Wales himself!

"Actually!" Sybil spoke up, putting on a sweet smile for her great-aunt. "Aunt Rosamond invited me to stay with her."

It was a lie, of course. Her aunt had not made any such invitation, nor had there been any sort of conversation about the matter, but the truth was, that if Sybil had to live with someone before she was twenty-one, she would much rather it be with her aunt in London, than any place else. And thankfully, when questioned by Violet, Rosamond went along with the charade without even being prepped beforehand by Sybil, and simply nodded her head sweetly at her mother and murmured a sweet, "of course! It's something Sybil and I have discussed in great detail."

Sybil would forever be in her aunt's debt.

Violet didn't like it one bit, of course, because she was well aware of what Sybil would "get up to", living in London with Rosamond and her "wild friends". Yes, Violet was well aware of Sybil's "suffragette activities", and how she was spending far too much time attending meetings, rather than putting that time to good use...such as finding herself a husband. Violet was tempted to even go so far as to write to Martha and Harold and have them do something about Sybil's behavior, but she refrained simply because she knew that they were mourning Cora's loss as much as she was mourning Robert's.

1912 was a long year for Sybil and the rest of the Crawleys. Some days weren't so bad, and then others the grief would be overwhelming. For Sybil, the death of her aunt and uncle reopened the grief she once felt at the loss of her mother. She wrote to both her father and grandmother a great deal that year, more than any other year before, but when the invitation was extended to travel to New York to see them, Sybil politely refused, out of fear of traveling by boat. A journey that she herself had made so many times in her life, one that she never blinked an eye at before, suddenly seemed to be the most frightening thing to do. And when her father and grandmother offered to come to London to see her, she had a telegram urgently sent, begging them not to make the journey, not wanting to lose more family to the ocean's depths.

As a means to combat her grief and fear, Sybil put more effort and energy into The Cause than ever before. Ever since their first meeting when she was eleven, Lady Mae had taken an interest in Sybil, and in some respects took the girl under her wing, as a protege of sorts. Lady Mae had always been very kind to Sybil, but Sybil was not blind to notice that her aunt did not seem to be very...pleased...by the woman's attention. "Lady Loxley is a very busy woman, and I just don't want you over-occupying her time," Rosamond had muttered when Sybil had once tried to question her aunt's misgivings. It was clear there was more to it than that, but Sybil felt it best to keep any further questions to herself.

Lady Mae introduced Sybil to other young ladies who were interested in The Cause, and was very pleased by Sybil's easy, outgoing nature in drawing those ladies, as well as others, into their fold. "After all, your generation must take up the mantle and continue the good fight!" she had declared while patting Sybil's hand.

1912 soon became 1913, and with the new year came Sybil's 21st birthday. This time, Martha and Harold Levinson did make the journey to London to celebrate with her, and a grand party was held on Eaton Square. Violet and her cousins and their husbands came as well, revealing for all the eyes to see that Mary was happily expecting. It was a wonderful night, filled with laughter and dancing, though much to Sybil's annoyance, Violet did manage to sneak Harold and Martha aside to talk about Sybil's prospects for the future.

"She is your only child, Harold," Violet had murmured in hushed tones, despite the drowning music that was playing around them. "And if there is one thing I have learned about your lot," she muttered, looking pointedly at both him and his mother, "it's that you Americans have no qualm about leaving everything to a daughter."

"This is true," Harold nodded his head, not taking Violet's words as an insult at all, even if that was their intention. "Sybil already has a considerable dowry, but upon my death, she will inherit a great deal more."

"A great deal more!?" Violet sputtered. "Please, you Americans are not known for your understatements. She will become an heiress overnight!"

"Sybil is already an heiress," Martha corrected.

"Precisely," Violet nodded. "And not that I am wishing for your demise, Harold," she was quick to defend. "But when you do die and the knowledge of Sybil's fortune is learned, there won't be a man from here to Moscow who won't come knocking on Rosamond's door, asking for her hand in marriage."

Martha lifted a brow at this. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Isn't that what YOU want?" Violet shot back. "Don't deny that you had hoped Cora would land a title."

"And don't deny that you're still hoping one will fall on your lap," Martha parried. "And while lovely Edith has nabbed herself one in the form of her Sir Anthony, a baronet isn't quite what you were hoping for, was it?"

Violet refused to give the woman the satisfaction of a yes.

"Begging your pardon, Mrs. Crawley," Harold cut in. "But...what is it that concerns you about my daughter?"

"My concern is that Sybil will be seized upon by every fortune hunter-"

"From here to Moscow, yeah, so you said," Martha muttered.

Violet glared back at Martha, but continued speaking. "She will become even more vulnerable if she is not married before your death, than after; do you understand?"

Harold nodded his head. "So you feel it is imperative that she marry sooner, rather than later."

"Exactly! And marry she must, of course," Violet declared without further explanation.

"WHY?"

All three heads turned then to see the very person to whom they had been talking about appear, having revealed herself from the tall fern which Sybil had been hiding behind.

"Has it ever occurred to you, Aunt Violet, that I couldn't care less?"

"Oh Sybil," Violet groaned. "You only just turned twenty-one, you don't know what you want!"

"Yes I do! And as much as it pains you to hear, the truth is Aunt Violet, I am political; I am interested! But NOT in matters of marriage!"

"Sybil, dear-" her grandmother tried to calm, but Sybil wouldn't hear any of it.

"No, Grandmama; Aunt Violet is right about one thing, and that is that I am now twenty-one, and as such, I am of legal age. Therefore, I feel it is within my right to declare how I, an adult woman, would like to live her life!"

"And just how would you live it, hmm?" Violet asked, fixing her niece with a stern look.

Sybil lifted her chin...before turning her eyes to her father and holding his gaze for a long moment. "Independently."

"Oh for goodness sake!" Violet groaned, throwing her hands up into the air. "Now I've heard everything."

"There's no reason for me to marry," Sybil continued, much to her great-aunt's shock. "The purposes you give for marriage, Aunt Violet, are fortune and connections. Well, clearly I have no need for fortune, and as far as I'm concerned, I already have the perfect connections."

Violet sputtered at this. "Oh yes, you and those 'friends' of Rosamond's."

"Who are all perfectly respectable ladies," Sybil defended. Again she met her father's gaze. "I am a person, not a 'prize' for some man, and clearly, based on everything the three of you are saying, is all I will ever be seen as, and if that is the case, well...quite frankly, I want no part in it!"

"Oh Sybil-"

"No!" she stated again. "No, Aunt Violet; I'd much rather live my life and die a spinster, than be shackled to the highest bidder." She looked directly into her father's eyes then. "Why did you marry Mama?"

Harold sighed and lowered his gaze for a moment, before lifting his eyes, which were now glistening, back to Sybil's. "Because I loved her."

Sybil smiled at this. "And that was why Aunt Cora married Uncle Robert, I know. Because they loved each other. Love, Papa...love is the only reason I would ever consider marriage."

Though Sybil doubted it would ever be. What would convince her that the man declaring his undying devotion to her was doing so out of love, and not out of the prospect of bagging a wealthy wife? No, she would always be skeptical about such things, but there was no reason to tell her father that just now. Right now, all she needed to do was convince him that letting her be, letting her live her life as an independent woman...truly was for the best.

Harold rose to his feet then and smiled at his daughter, before holding his hand out to her. "May I have this dance then, Miss Levinson?"

Sybil blushed and smiled and nodded her head, before accepting her father's hand and letting him lead her out to the dance floor.

"That girl has far too much Levinson in her," Violet muttered to Martha as father and daughter stepped away.

"It makes perfect sense, since she is a Levinson," Martha kindly reminded. "Just because she talks like one of you Crawleys, doesn't mean she is one."

"Don't remind me," Violet groaned.

The next day, Harold had a special surprise for his daughter-a "belated birthday present", as he called it. He shocked Sybil then by revealing that after her passionate speech the previous evening, he had contacted the Crawley family solicitor, and with both Murray's help and Rosamond's, had begun the search for a town house in London...a place that would be Sybil's, and Sybil's alone.

Violet threw her hands up into the air, muttering something about "Americans", while Sybil squealed and hugged her father tightly. A week later, a place was found, right there on Eaton Square, Number 149. Harold signed the papers, but the place was entirely left in Sybil's name.

Rosamond did everything she could to help Sybil set the place up, including the hiring of staff. Before summer's end, they had found several housemaids, a cook and small kitchen staff, and a footman. As for a butler, Rosamond was shocked and surprised when Charles Carson, who had been serving her house before Marmaduke's death, stepped forward and volunteered to hand in his notice, if Miss Sybil would accept him.

Carson had become rather fond of Miss Sybil through the years, and while he didn't exactly approve of everything she and her aunt did, he was of the old order, in which servants did not pry into the business of their employers, no matter what their opinions were on the matter. He was used to his mistress' meetings, and Lady Loxley was a very respectable woman amongst London's elite, so despite their politics, they couldn't be all bad. However, Carson's main reason for wanting to become the butler at 149 was connected to the very reason Violet felt that Sybil needed to marry sooner, rather than later.

Someone had to keep the dogs at bay, and Carson had seen how some of those mutts, dressed in their finery, had oggled Miss Sybil with their eyes, their tongues practically hanging out and salivating on the floor. Miss Sybil was a beauty, that could not be denied, however Carson knew, just as Violet did, that the main reason these hounds came calling was because they were not ignorant as to who and what, Sybil was. And by God, Charles Carson would do everything in his power to keep those filthy mongrels from stepping foot inside 149.

Of course, there were consequences to switching jobs.

While nothing "official" had been said, it was long since believed that Charles Carson was rather sweet on Rosamond's housekeeper. And while he would only be at the other end of Eaton Square and not at the other end of the country, it would still be a difficult move, parting from someone you deeply care about. But again, Carson was of the old order, and determined to be of service first, while putting his own wants and desires aside for the time being.

As 1913 drew near a close, 149 was finally ready for Sybil and her staff to move in and make it a proper home. That year, the London town house saw it's first Christmas, and Sybil held a party for her family and closest friends. Mary and Matthew came with their little one-a boy whom they had named Robert ("Bobby", for short), and now it was Edith who was blessedly expecting. Sybil smiled and lifted a glass to toast, happy for her loved ones, and feeling the loving warmth of her aunt, uncle, and mother, watching over all that were gathered. Indeed, compared to the sadness of 1912, 1913 had been a wonderful year.

Sadly, the good fortune did not last much beyond it.

On New Years morning, Sybil awoke to a snow-covered London in the year 1914, by a frantic knock on her door. Dread filled her as she recalled a morning not so long ago where she had awoken to such a knock, and where bad news was delivered.

So was this. Gwen, her lady's maid, was standing on the other side of the door, looking most upset, and holding a yellow envelope in her hands. "Forgive me, Miss," she whispered, tearfully. "The message boy said it was urgent, and...and I'm sorry that I opened it, but..."

Sybil shook her head, taking the telegram from Gwen's trembling fingers and took a deep breath as she pulled message out to read.

IT IS WITH DEEP REGRET [stop] THAT I MUST INFORM YOU [stop]
OF YOUR FATHER'S DEATH [stop]
KILLED IN AN AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT [stop] LATE LAST NIGHT [stop]
PLEASE STAND BY FOR MORE INFORMATION [stop] MARTHA LEVINSON [stop]

Sybil sank to the ground then, pale and stunned by the news. Gwen ran in search of Carson, who telephoned the doctor, and then telephoned her Aunt Rosamond, who quickly came over. Harold Levinson, only son of Isidore Levinson, the head of the Levinson business and all its fortune...was dead.

And just like that, as Violet had said not even a year ago...Sybil was now the sole heiress to the Levinson family fortune.

...And she would gladly give it all away, if it meant she could have her father, mother, and aunt and uncle back.

By the end of the week, Sybil mustered up the courage she needed to make the journey to New York, where she stayed for the remainder of the month, trying to provide whatever comfort she could for her grandmother, who had not only outlived her husband, but also both of her children. Even though Sybil had a life back in London, she considered giving it all up to stay in Newport with her grandmother, but Martha refused, telling Sybil that Harold clearly believed her capable of living that independent life she longed for, and it would be a great disservice to his memory, if she gave it all up now. So with that in mind, Sybil returned to London, where once again she threw herself fully into The Cause, dedicating even more time and effort to it than before.

She was an independent woman. She had no desire to take part in Society's "mating rituals". She would leave everything to the children of her dear cousins, and focus all of her time and attention on helping win the women of Britain the vote. And even more than that, Sybil quickly found herself expanding her political knowledge beyond the Suffrage Movement, to issues facing London's poor and destitute. With her father's money (which was now hers) she would make large (and anonymous) donations to various charities around the city and across the country, though deep down she knew it still wasn't enough.

Summer came at last, but Sybil steered as far away from the Season as possible, ignoring every invitation that was sent to her house. Carson would growl down any man who showed up on 149's doorstep uninvited, and even those that had been granted access, he would still continue to glare upon, happy to see them squirm under his threatening gaze. Sybil was most grateful to Carson, yet she was well aware of all that he had sacrificed in order to help her. And on the morning of August 5th, the day after the announcement that Britain was to go to war with Germany, Sybil called Carson into her study and politely asked for his notice.

"I...I beg your pardon, Miss?" he stammered, staring at Sybil in shock.

"Carson, please...please believe me when I say that I am so grateful for all that you have done for me in the short time I have come to live here at 149...and before that, when I was living with Aunt Rosamond! But...after everything that has happened, both in my own life, and what is happening now in the world..." she rose to her feet then and crossed the room to take the stunned butler's hands in hers. "Life is fleeting; it's short and it's precious. It should not be wasted when it can be celebrated with those that you love."

Carson's brow furrowed, and then his face turned a dark shade of red. "Miss Sybil, please-"

"I have already spoken to Aunt Rosamond. As you know, Mrs. Hughes was already thinking about retirement before the summer started. And I think it's finally time that the both of you do what you have been longing to do for far too long."

Poor Carson was beet red at what Sybil was suggesting, but she had no regrets in stating the obvious. She knew that the butler and housekeeper were in love, and it was high time that the two of them marry.

"Don't I get a say in this, Miss?" Carson asked, when he finally managed to overcome his shock.

Sybil grinned at that and shook her head. "Not on this matter, I'm afraid."

Carson pursed his lips, looking both disapproving, but at the same time, in the depths of his eyes, Sybil could see elation at the prospect of finally taking Mrs. Hughes as his wife, and making her "Mrs. Carson".

"Fine, I will accept my 'forced retirement'," he muttered, "but only on one condition. That you allow me, Miss Sybil, to find my replacement."

Sybil had a feeling Carson would demand as much, and she wasn't willing to fight him. In all fairness, Carson had been eveything she wanted in a butler, especially in being formidable when necessary. Her great-aunt had not been wrong; after news had hit that Harold Levinson was dead and had left everything to his only child, there was suddenly an influx of gentleman callers, many of whom Sybil had never met, and quite frankly, had no desire to meet at all. Carson had been every bit the English bulldog, and Sybil would forever be in his debt for all the help he had provided during those months after her father's death.

"Very well," she agreed, with a nod of her head. After all, she knew she could trust Carson with finding a man well suited for the position.

Carson rarely smiled (at least when others were watching), but his lips did curl slightly at this, and he bowed his head in thanks, before turning and leaving the room altogether.

And so THIS, was where the story truly began. The story of an American heiress, brought up and educated in Britain, who took an interest in politics, and decided to dedicate all of her time and efforts to the Suffrage Movement, rather than making advantageous marriage.

The story of Miss Sybil Levinson, who in the late summer and early weeks of autumn in 1914, desperately needed a new butler, after more or less forcing her current butler into retirement so he could marry his sweetheart.

...and who found that man on the streets of London, in the city's East End, in the most unlikely of places (and in the most shocking of situations).

An Irishman by the name of Tom Branson, who at the time very little was known, but who Sybil would soon get to know in the weeks and months, and eventually years, that followed.

And who would change her life, and her future, forever.