A/N: Here is my Valentine's fic exchange for the lovely Piperholmes. Piper's prompt wanted to hear more about how Sybil's family would react to her having another baby soon after the first. So here we are - not my normal universe; Tom is the agent for the estate, Sybil has returned to nursing and they live in the agent's house. Their daughter Sybbie was born almost a year ago when this story starts.

And because I am rubbish at keeping to anything like a word count this is in two parts - part two WILL be up tomorrow !

"I won't be able to get back for lunch today - what time is your shift again ?" Tom was hurriedly tying his tie in the mirror, flicking the ends over with a practiced move to form a neat knot which he settled at his throat.

"Two o'clock," Sybil answered, sipping the cup of tea he'd brought her. "I won't be back till after nine. I'll drop Sybbie off at Downton before I go. Can you pick her up ?"

He nodded.

"Of course." He turned to pick up his jacket. "I'll see you when you get back then. I've got to go, love, I'm late as it is." He strode over to the bed, gave her a quick kiss and was gone.

The minute she heard the front door slam shut, she put the saucer on the bedside table, swung out of bed and ran across the landing to the bathroom, where she promptly threw up.

It was a cool day for June, so she'd helped her daughter into a cardigan her grandmother had knitted and sent over from Dublin, and ignored her protests as she put her in the pram. She was just starting to walk and liked to show off her new skill, but her mother needed to go to Downton village this morning, far too far for Sybbie's little legs.

But frustration of the pram was worth it. Twenty minutes later, Sybbie was holding court in Dr Clarkson's waiting room. The village had got over its shock at seeing the Earl's youngest daughter pushing a pram about and had come to appropriate her as one of their own. And they they took the little Miss Margaret Branson to their hearts. Not that anyone ever called her Margaret, Sybil thought as she watched Mrs Drew hold her hand and walk her slowly round the room, solemnly inspecting every waiting patient. Even Papa called her Sybbie nowadays. It had started with Tom insisting that the baby was her mother in miniature, joking that he now had two Sybils. The baby was her father's "little Sybil'. "My little Sybil" soon morphed into "My little Sybbie" and became simply Sybbie. Sybil picked up the habit despite herself and her mother picked it up with enthusiasm, so by the time she was four months old, she was Sybbie to the entire family and staff. Only Robert and the Dowager persisted in calling her by her given name and then by Christmas, even Robert had cracked.

Dr Clarkson, however, called her Miss Margaret and reassured Sybil that the rash on her arm was nothing to worry about. It was only then that Sybil admitted to him that Sybbie's rash wasn't the real reason she had come to see him after all.

"Sybil ?" There was a light touch on her arm. She looked up to see Isobel standing next to her, smiling.

"You were miles away," she said. "That was the third time I called you before I got your attention."

Sybil stopped and put the brake on the pram.

"I'm sorry, Cousin Isobel, I was in a world of my own."

"And with this lovely little one, who can blame you," replied Isobel, leaning over to stroke Sybbie's cheek. Sybbie gave her a wide smile in return and tried to grab her finger.

"I saw you coming out of the surgery. I hope she's alright ?"

She forced herself to smile.

"Yes, she's fine. She has a bit of a rash that I just wanted to get checked."

"It seems incredible that she's nearly a year old already. She'll be walking properly before too long, then you won't be able to ….. Sybil ?"

Isobel looked at her young friend closely. Her normal warm smile and engaging manner was absent. If anything, she looked dazed.

"Listen," said Isobel, "I was just on my way back home. Why don't you come with me and have some tea - if you don't have to be back home, of course ? I feel I haven't seen you and Sybbie for ages."

Sybil hesitated, but Isobel's frank manner won her over. She smiled and nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "That would be lovely."

Sybbie sat contentedly on the floor of Crawley House's drawing room with one of Matthew's old toys stuffed in her mouth, whilst her mother sat on the sofa balancing a cup of tea on her lap; the same sofa, Isobel remembered, where she's tended to Sybil's wound after the count in Ripon before the war. Matthew had told her the following day of Branson's concern, curious enough to be noteworthy. I suppose that was the start of it, she thought - easy enough to see in hindsight, but unthinkable at the time. And yet here they were a few years later, the same woman sat with the chauffeur's daughter at her feet. It made her smile every time she thought of it.

They talked about the hospital. After what had happened to Sybil, Robert had found the money for a small maternity wing; whether out of thankfulness or guilt, Isobel wasn't sure. It was to be opened soon and she was in her element, leading the board in interviewing new staff. She'd been particularly impressed with a young female doctor from Birmingham. Needless to say Violet wasn't.

"I was disappointed in your grandmother," she said. "As a mother, I would have thought that even she could see the advantage of a female gynaecologist. I don't believe for one minute that women wouldn't trust her…..Sybil, dear, I do wish you would tell me what was wrong. I might be able to help."

Caught, she retrieved her practiced smile and started to deny anything was wrong, but Isobel was having none of it.

"I know you, Sybil. I've watched you grow up. You've hardly been here this morning."

Sybil said nothing. merely looking at the cup in her lap.

"I know that you don't always feel you can share things with your family. But I want you to know that I will never judge you. Anything you say is safe with me."

"I know that," Sybil said hastily. They sat in silence whilst the ticking of the clock seemed to get louder and louder. Finally, she sighed.

"I'm pregnant," she said. "Dr Clarkson just confirmed it."

Isobel said nothing, her encouraging smile becoming fixed, giving nothing away.

"That's….wonderful news," she said eventually.

"Is it ?" said Sybil, "after what happened last time ? I don't think anyone else will agree with you."

"What about you ? Are you pleased ?"

Sybil leant forward and placed the cup carefully on a table, brushing her hand over her daughter's head as she did so.

"I want to be. I'd love another baby. But - " she stopped. "Dr Clarkson said there is more chance of the toxaemia returning with a second pregnancy. But he still says there is far more chance that it won't and I'll be fine. It's not a death sentence - but I can't help thinking everyone else will think it is."

"Well, that's understandable, in the circumstances."

"I'm not sure I can cope with six months of my family worrying about me every minute of the day. I just want them to be happy about it."

"Tom will be happy, won't he ?"

Sybil looked back her with something very like guilt, she thought.

"I'm not sure," she said. "This wasn't supposed to happen…". She stopped, blushing furiously. "After Sybbie was born, Dr Clarkson spoke to us about the risks involved in another pregnancy, and that we might want to…to think about it. So I paid a visit to Mrs Stopes' clinic in London."

Isobel gave her wry, complicit smile.

"Ah. I'd heard her methods were not altogether reliable."

"It seems not," Sybil said sadly. "It'll be a shock for Tom. He didn't want me to go through another pregnancy until we were absolutely sure we were ready for another baby. You see, we're both so happy with Sybbie for now," she said, reaching down again to stroke her daughter's head. "I just don't want him to worry."

"He nearly lost you, Sybil. Of course he'll worry."

Sybil sighed.

"I know he will."

The afternoon shift at the hospital was brisk and by the time she had arrived back at the agent's cottage, she was exhausted. Tom had already collected Sybbie from the nursery at Downton and put her straight to bed, and was now sat at his desk in the study reviewing the last year's barley yields. He smiled when he heard the front door open, emerging into the hall in his stockinged feet to give her a warm smile and a kiss. They shared a simple supper and a nightcap, then headed to bed.

She could feel his eyes following her as she moved around their bedroom, shimmying out of her uniform and underwear and into her nightdress. He pretended to return to his book as she sat at her dressing table to brush her hair, but she could see his eyes flicker from the book to her body in the mirror. She caught his eye as she rose, her sly gaze holding his with a promise as she wandered to her side of the bed. He put the book down as she climbed in and turned to face her, smiling expectantly, his hand sliding up her thigh under her nightdress and coming to rest on her hip. As he leant down to kiss her, his hand settled firmly on the warm skin of her waist and pulled her towards him.

"Tom…." she sighed as he moved down to start kissing her throat.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered. "Have you ….you know…" He looked up at her, still unable to ask her outright. Here was her chance.

"We won't be needing that for a while," she said.

"Hmmm ?" he asked in between gentle kisses to her jaw.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened and he sat up abruptly.

"You can't be."

She nodded.

"I saw Dr Clarkson today and he confirmed it."

"But…..that…that thing that you got from the clinic….."

"…..didn't work," she said sadly.

He stared at her as the implications of what she had just said started to sink in. He swallowed hard. She scrabbled up out of the blankets to kneel beside him and put her hand on his arm.

"It doesn't mean its going to happen again."

"Dr Clarkson said there was more risk in a second pregnancy,"

"Yes, but it still a small risk. There's every chance that it will be fine."

"You don't know that. Oh God," he muttered, rubbing his forehead, "I can't go through all that again."

"You won't have to."

"You can't know that !"

"Tom, darling….."

"You stopped breathing, Sybil. You went blue ! Right there in front of me !"

There was nothing she could say to that.

"I thought you were dead."

"But I wasn't."

He sighed in frustration and looked away. They'd had this conversation before. He knew there was no way he could make her understand what it had felt like to watch her writhe, gasping for breath as her lips turned deathly dark. That when she stopped thrashing about, the fleeting moment of relief was dashed when he realised she was so still. The terror that had set in didn't disappear when she sudden took in a huge gulp of air and started to gasp, desperately catching her breath. It had taken him several minutes to realise that she was still with him. Sybil knew nothing of that. All she remembered was waking up several days later when her mind had cleared. All she knew was that she'd survived.

"We should have taken Dr Clarkson's advice," he said, flushing at the memory of the doctor discussing the implications of Sybil's toxaemia on their intimate life with terrifying frankness, whilst he squirmed on his chair like a teenager in a confessional.

"Dr Clarkson said that the only way to be sure to avoid another pregnancy was abstaining." She waited patiently for him to look up, smiling when he did so. "And that's not a real marriage. We can't live the rest of our lives in fear of something that might never happen."

"I can't bear the thought of being without you."

"Darling," her voice was low, reassuring. "It won't be the same this time."

"How can you possibly …."

"Because we'll do things differently right from the start. We know there's a risk, so we'll minimise it. Dr Clarkson is going to find a specialist in toxaemia. I'll see them as soon as possible and do whatever they think is necessary. And I'll have this baby in hospital - and I don't mean the cottage hospital either. I mean a district hospital - York, or Leeds, or London if I have to."

He sat regarding her mutely. She'd obviously thought this through.

"I know this wasn't what we'd expected. But this baby is here now and we can't do anything about it. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure its going to be alright. And I need you to help me."

He looked as if he was about to cry. She reached up to stroke his cheek and he gathered her to him, holding her tight and burying his face in her hair.

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. And I don't want to leave you and Sybbie."

He tightened his hold and she could feel his heart beating against her chest, a little faster than usual. They stayed like that for a long while, without words, trying to capture this small moment of warmth and safety and make it last.

"When will you tell your family ?" he asked, eventually.

She turned in his arms, shifting herself so she could look up at him.

"When everything is settled. I want it all arranged before we tell them."

"They won't like it."

"No. They won't."

It took three weeks for Dr Clarkson to find the leading specialist in eclampsia, who turned out not to be located in London, but in the rather less glamourous location of Jessop's Women's Hospital in Sheffield. He made an appointment and all three of them travelled down to see him. His prescription was constant and careful monitoring along with bed rest and hospitalisation in the last stages of her pregnancy, assuming all was well. He would come and see her regularly in Downton, and travel to York to deliver her when the time came. Sybil was impressed with him - his manner was kind, but down to earth. On hearing she was a nurse, he became easier and less guarded; peppering his consultation with medical jargon that meant little to Tom. He could see that it had relaxed Sybil, moving what was happening to her out of the personal and into the professional sphere. She trusted this man, which left him no option but to trust him as well.

They were due to dine at Downton that evening, taking the baby with them and staying overnight. The whole family would be there.

Getting changed for dinner, she pulled out one of the gowns that she left hanging in the wardrobe of her her old bedroom precisely for the purpose. It was already a little tight around the waist. It really would have to be tonight. If she waited any longer to tell her family, she would reach the point where it became unnecessary.

"I'll do it once we've all gone through," she said, holding her hands folded in front of her in a gesture he'd seen so often when she'd lived here. Nowadays it was a sign she was unsure of herself and was unconciously falling back on her atavistic ladylike behaviour.

"I'd rather tell Mama and Mary first. I think in the end they'll be more pragmatic than Papa. Once they know we've taken care of everything they'll be happier about it."

"What about your grandmother ?"

"Granny ?" She sighed. "Granny will be…..Granny, I suppose. You know what she's like. If Mama gets remotely upset, Granny will put it down to her being American and disapprove."

"I don't understand your Grandmother. You'd think she'd have come round to your mother by now - especially as she saved the estate and your father's happy."

'Oh, she has. She just doesn't want anyone to know that. I think she feels that approving of Mama would be letting the side down."

He laughed softly and offered her a smile tinged with sadness.

"That's something that seems to run in the family."

Sometimes Sybil loved family dinners, with their reassurance that nothing but the usual topics of conversation would be broached by people who had been around this table every night for as long as she could remember. But just as frequently she found the same things irksome and parochial. Tonight, they made it easy for her to switch off and worry about what she needed to tell her family, without it being obvious. She could drift in and out of conversations about this year's fair at Thirsk, the scandalous behaviour of new Master of the Hunt and the trials and tribulations of various tenants without raising any suspicions. Only Tom, at the other end of the table, was aware anything was untoward and his eyes would flicker to hers as he listened respectfully to the Dowager Countess. Finally, mercifully, dinner was over and her mother signalled for the ladies to rise and leave the men to their port. Tom caught her eye as she got up, concern evident in his face as he gave her an encouraging smile. As she turned to follow her mother, she caught Edith watching her, brows furrowed and chin lifted in an an obvious question. Sybil ignored her and hurried to catch her mother up.

Edith waited until Carson had served everyone coffee, then tackled her sister in the least tactful way possible.

"What are you and Tom hiding from us ?"

Sybil froze, her hands still, holding the cup firmly in the saucer.

"Whatever do you mean ?"

"The way you were looking at each other. You two are up to something,"

"Oh Edith, don't pester her. It's hard enough to have any privacy around here as it is."

"I wasn't pestering !" Edith looked offended, more because she suspected an obscure slight on her spinsterhood. Hard enough when you're married and have things worth keeping private, Mary had meant.

"And what would Sybil be doing that she would want to keep us in the dark about ?" enquired Violet. "She and Branson have always taken great pleasure in telling us all about their latest….adventures."

"Oh Granny !" Sybil rolled her eyes.

"If Sybil and Tom have something they want us to know, I'm sure they'll tell us in their own good time," said Cora, leaning over to place a smoothing hand on her daughter's knee. "Let's leave them alone."

Sybil gave her mother a guilty smile.

"Actually," she began, "there is something I want to tell you." She felt four pairs of eyes turn to look at her. Even Carson looked up from the decanters.

"I'm going to have another baby."

Cora gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. Sybil gave them a bright smile, trying to make her audience accept this as good news by sheer force of will.

"So soon ? It's not even a year since….." Cora trailed off. An uncomfortable silence descended.

"But - darling, we thought you'd decided to wait ?" said Mary, visibly shocked.

"Yes, well…" Sybil trailed off.

"Are you sure ?" asked her mother.

"Yes," she nodded. Cora looked away, distraught. "Mama -it's not going to be like last time…"

"But Dr Clarkson said there was a higher risk of toxaemia in a second pregnancy !"

"But its still a small risk. And I've seen a specialist - a specialist in toxaemia," she added as Cora's head whipped round in alarm. "Dr Clarkson found him. We went to see him yesterday. He'll come up and see me regularly and Dr Clarkson will monitor me every few days. Then when I'm five months, I'll be on best rest and spent the last month in York County hospital and give birth there."

"We ?" asked Violet.

"Myself, Tom and Dr Clarkson. Dr Clarkson wanted to discuss my case with him in person, seeing as he will be looking after my day-to-day care."

"Who is this doctor ?" asked Edith.

"Dr Levy. He works at the Jessop Women's hospital in Sheffield. He's made a study of toxaemia for several years and is well respected in the field."

"Sheffield ?" asked Violet, horrified. "The only thing Sheffield is respected for is making forks !"

"Well, he is," said Sybil crossly. "And I liked him. He impressed Dr Clarkson too."

"Oh, well, if he has Dr Clarkson's seal of approval, then he must be St Luke himself,"

Sybil ignored her grandmother, turning instead to her stricken-looking mother. She reached over and took her hand.

"Please, Mama. Don't fret."

Cora took a deep breath and gave her daughter a small nod.

"No, you're right," she said, squeezing her hand. "We must be strong."

Whatever Sybil had been about to say next was interrupted by the appearance of her father.

"….all I am saying is that creation of a Northern Irish state is just protecting the Unionists. The majority of Ireland will have home rule. Anyway - lets not bore the ladies with our discussion. Cigar, Matthew ?"

Matthew nodded his assent as Tom split away from them and went to stand behind his wife, laying a tender hand upon her shoulder. One look at Cora told him that Sybil had given everyone her news.

"Everyone's very quiet," Robert remarked once Carson had served him his brandy. He caught sight of his wife still holding on to Sybil's hand.

"Is everything alright ?" he said, beginning to feel a little alarmed.

Cora swallowed.

"Sybil has something to tell us."

Sybil smiled at her father, once again determined to behave as if this was a happy event.

"Papa…..I'm pregnant."

"What ?" Robert put his brandy down with some force, making it wash up the sides of the glass like a high tide. It washed the smile off Sybil's face. She looked nervously at her mother.

"I'm going to have another baby." She felt Tom's grip on her shoulder tighten.

Her father turned away from her and grasped the mantlepiece for support.

"It's not even been a year since Sybbie was born. How can you be so irresponsible as to put us through all that again !"

"Robert !"

"Papa - please, just listen to me. I've seen a specialist….."

But Robert wasn't listening. He spun swiftly round and levelled his gaze at Tom, taking a step towards him. His nostrils flared.

"This is all your doing."

"What ?" replied Tom, genuinuely confused.

"Because you can't... control yourself, you've put my daughter in the gravest danger !"

"Papa !"

"If you were any sort of a man, you would have had the decency to leave her alone !"

"I say, Robert, that's going a bit far !" Matthew's reprimand fell in the shocked silence like a shell. Sybil was on her feet.

"If you must know, Papa, Tom was quite happy to abstain after Sybbie was born. It was me that wasn't."

"Good heavens, are we to be spared no detail ?" said Violet to no one in particular.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed. I'm rather tired." And with that, Sybil stalked out of the room, throwing her father an unpleasant look and slamming the door behind her.

There's more...tomorrow ! I just wanted to get this up tonight !