Lord Grantham had told him to go to bed. He goes up to Sybil's old bedroom, and is finally able to give into his grief. The tears had already started to fall, but seeing the empty side of the bed where she would usually be sleeping feels like someone was sucking the air out of him. He sobs until he is nearly sick. He finally lays down, still fully clothed. At this stage in Sybil's pregnancy, he sometimes even feels the baby move as they lay together at night, huddled to keep the chill at bay. If his wife's absence wasn't terrifying enough, the renewed wave of fear that he has also put their child at risk keeps his anxious mind awake. He daren't go down to the library, and it's still pouring outside, so a walk about the grounds, or to the garage is out of the question. Around three in the morning, he does finally fall into a fitful sleep, but is plagued with dreams of burning houses, and Sybil being taken away by the police, dragging her feet and screaming for him, as he stands frozen in horror.
He is a awakened by a maid who brings in another change of Matthew's clothes for him to wear. He doesn't know her, and the way she gawks leads him to believe that she's only heard stories about Lady Sybil and the chauffeur, if indeed he himself has been mentioned at all. Thankfully, she leaves quickly.
Tom doesn't go down to breakfast. He doesn't want to eat. If she were here, Sybil would chide him about his health, but she's not here, and it is for that precise reason that he stomach is too tied in knots to consider anything but water. He doubts anyone in the family, or downstairs, want anything to do with him. He doesn't truly blame them. He wants nothing to do with himself either.
Thomas is the one who eventually fetches him, saying that 'his Lordship' has requested his presence in the library. Tom can feel Thomas' daggered glare following him down the stairs. He keeps telling himself that Edith spoke to Sybil just before he'd arrived last night. Sybil'd said to tell them she was alright, (but then she'd ended the call unexpectedly, the pessimist in him counters). And so it goes round and round in his head. He listens to Lord Grantham's attacks, and he hardly registers them. It doesn't matter that this was her idea. That she convinced him that he would be in more danger than she, and he would need to leave quickly, that she could afford to settle what was left, and follow. That it made sense in the abstract, and that he had allowed his misgivings to be consoled was inconsequential. It was different in reality. His wife, who was nearly due, had been left alone in territory that was not fond of the English nobility. Each minute without knowing where she was filled him with a paralyzing dread.
His father-in-law left hours ago, it is now past tea time, and still there is no word. He'd taken the last boat out, but the first boat left early in the morning. Shouldn't she have been here by now? Nobody but she knew where he'd gone. If something had happened to her, who was going to think to tell him? Who would know where to send a message? Matthew tries to put on a brave face for him. It seems that he must have said something to Mary as well because she too makes an effort to remain more composed than she had the night before. They both sit with him in the library, stoic pillars of strength. Cora seems to think that if she avoids him, it will spare them both heartache. No one seems to have mentioned any of this to Edith, because she continues to stare at him, her furrowed brow an exact mirror of the accusation and anger he feels for himself.
It's now been nearly two days since he's spoken to his beloved. There's still no news from Lord Grantham. Tom has shut himself in the room he usually occupies. Granted, he probably isn't thinking entirely clearly, but he legitimately cannot tell if the others have decided to pretend like there's nothing to worry about, or if they honestly can't fathom the reality of the danger Sybil could be in. Lord Grantham is right to be furious with him. God if anything happens to Sybil, or the baby- he doesn't finish the thought. He just sinks into an armchair and cries himself hoarse.
Surprisingly enough, Anna is the one who seeks him out later in the evening. He hears a knock, and his heart stops in his chest. Is it Sybil? Is it someone to tell him she's here, or is it something worse. When he sees Anna at the door, he doesn't know whether or not to sigh in relief.
"May I come in?" He lets her in, of course. Anna, he realizes, has an acute idea of how he's feeling, and may be the only one in this house who truly understands. When she sees his red eyes, tears begin to brim in her own. He asks her to sit down, and she does. He asks after Mr. Bates, and she gives a little sob. He takes her hands, and cocks his head in concern. She explains that she's been writing to him for weeks with no reply. She hasn't seen him either, and she's not sure if he's being noble, or if something terrible has happened and they just don't care to tell her. Tom nods in understanding. He explains that he was tipped off about the authorities looking for him the night after the burning of Dromhall Castle. When he'd come home that night, he'd said he'd had a meeting that ran late, and he was very sorry for worrying her. Then they'd gone to bed together. She'd taken off work till the baby arrived, so he'd kissed her goodbye as she still lay in bed the next morning. He'd gone to work, but around lunchtime one of the cousins' sons had come rushing in. At first he'd thought it was Sybil, but then it turned out the police were after him. He'd asked the boy to run to his flat, and he'd immediately taken what money he had on him and gotten the last ferry boat. He hadn't heard from anyone sense.
Anna listens to him patiently, though he can hardly get the words out. When he's finished she asks if he wants anything from the kitchen. He thanks her, but says he couldn't eat a bite. She'd nods and he imagines that she understands all too well. She then takes her leave. They're both glad to have had someone to talk to, but now they are alone again with their fears.
This night is even more wakeful than it's predecessor. Tom finds a Bible that was evidently given to Sybil in her youth. He spends most of the night reading and praying intermittently. He hopes it makes a difference.
The following morning, after again declining food from the maid who brings him clothes he goes out into the grounds behind the estate. The weather has cleared up considerably, and so he takes up a walking meditation. Murmuring prayers over an invisible rosary is how Alfred discovers him, to tell him that a car has arrived. Tom doesn't even stop to hear whether or not Alfred is sure who it is, because who else could it be. Surely God would grant him this one mercy?
He tears through the house, and when he reaches the foyer he stops because there she is. His wife. Sybil looks small in comparison to the hall's grandeur. She's pale, and trembling, but seems unharmed. He registers all this in one moment, before uttering the only appropriate phrase he can think of. He's sure he would have collapsed right there on the spot except that she looks ready to follow suit, and so they crashed into each other to keep themselves standing. Openly sobbing in unadulterated relief. They've never kissed with such desperation, and all he can think to do is beg for her forgiveness. She attempts to placate him, before he remembers the baby. He quickly brings his hand to her belly, looking into her face with increased anxiety. Still shaking she tries to nod, and smile weakly in reassurance. Her left hand joins his, and he kisses her soundly again. When she pulls away to breathe, he simply pulls her into his chest, rocking side to side, tears cascading still.
This is how Matthew finds them. His face splits into a warm grin, and the future Lord Grantham stands for a moment, relishing the spectacle of relief and joy. Neither of the Bransons take notice of him. But then the Crawley women enter, and descend upon Sybil, thus forcing the couple to part. Tom cannot bring himself to begrudge the family this, though the physical separation frightens him, even though he can still see the blue of Sybil's hat behind her mother and sisters. Still, for the moment he is sure she is whole, the knots in his stomach and chest begin to loosen.