A little PWP for Becky, who I know is looking for a Sybil/Branson fix. I hope this helps, m'dear!
I hereby disclaim ownership Downton Abbey or any characters involved, as well as God and David Lloyd George, both of whom are mentioned in passing in this story.
Gentleman
He ought to be a gentleman.
He certainly deserves it, Sybil mused as she lay awake in her bed. Branson's attentions to politics were quite unlike anyone else in his position. Her father thought it improper, that his chauffeur should be interested in the way the country was run, but why should he not? It was quite right, Sybil was sure, that anyone ought be able to vote. She wished she might have a say – but that was not to be, not yet, and if Branson had more legal right than she did to vote, he ought to vote as well as he could.
It was a topic that had come up at dinner more often than not in the last few weeks – a woman's right to vote, not a servant's. Sybil was adamant that it was only right – Mary had no objection to the vote, but did not see that it made such a difference – Edith felt that women ought remain as they were. Granny quite agreed with Edith, most vehemently indeed, and their mother placed herself equally between Edith and Mary, as she always did. Lord Grantham said only that he saw no reason for ladies to chain themselves to railings, and that it could not help them gain their cause: Cousin Matthew only agreed, and Cousin Isobel said with Sybil that it was quite right for women to vote, although she could never be so vehement. Sybil had been attentive enough to know exactly where each of them stood on the subject. And her discussion with Branson had been enough to tell her that he felt, too, that a woman had a right to vote, "and you, lady Sybil, as much as anybody – I see your passion for it, and am sure you are among the most deserving of ladies." The memory made Sybil smile a little brighter than perhaps it ought.
He had certainly intrigued her. A chauffeur with an understanding, nay, a fascination for politics! What delight, what well-designed delight had come this way for Sybil! She had silently thanked God over and again in her prayers that night for sending to her a man who could understand her. She had long since resolved never to marry a man whose companionship she could not desire – and Branson was quite the opposite. She had an overwhelming wish to see him again – to drive out with him – to talk of the nation and of Mr. Lloyd George.
Really, Sybil thought, he certainly ought to be a gentleman. And how she wished he was.