November, 1916

Belfast was a far cry from London, and their meager flat was universally different from anything she was used to at Downton, not even the lowliest of staff lived in these conditions. And yet, she couldn't force herself to regret the decision. Her marriage to Tom, their love, their life together was the only thing that was really, truly hers. Sure she had her politics, in fact she had recently joined the Ulster Suffragette movement (something Tom was particularly proud of) but even that couldn't keep her busy enough not to miss him now that he was gone to France.

As she made her way down the row of dour homes, she ran her ungloved fingers against the cold metal railings. It no longer surprised her how adulterated Belfast was by English industry; the whole city seemed bereft of color and any sort of joy. She shivered and not from the cold but from the tension that lingered in the air, every day another bout of horror stories came out of Dublin, in made her tremble to think about what would occur once the political turmoil in Dublin boiled over. That was one of the reasons Tom and she had chosen Belfast over Dublin there was a bit more tolerance for people like her and jobs, cheap factory jobs, but jobs none the less. She had been hired as a private teacher for an English family, for that was the only thing was qualified, although she had no idea what she would do once the baby came.

Sibyl rounded the corner and walked into the post office, silently hoping and praying there's a letter from her husband. Connors the postman immediately recognized her and handed her a fragile looking letter on delicate stationary that definitely was not army regimented. As soon as she read the address she began to shake violently, almost dropping the letter.

"Mrs. Branson?" Connors pulled her back into reality.

"Are you alright? You looking awful pale." She looked up at him for a moment then back down at the letter in her hand. "Everything is fine Mr. Connors, thank you for your concern." She waved at him as she rushed home as fast as she could possibly go in her condition. At the door she fumbled with the keys for a moment before finally thrusting the door open.

Sibyl,

No dear or any acknowledgement of any familial relationship.

It has been almost two years since you left Downton and it is high time you came home and accept responsibility for your actions. Matthew has asked me to write you and extend an invitation to celebrate Christmas with us at Crawley house. Mrs. Crawley will be simply delighted to see you again, she always did enjoy your company. If you need money for the journey please send a telegraph or write.

Sincerely,

Mary Crawley.

Sibyl's cheeks reddened with embarrassment, insulted over Mary's insinuation that she was living in poverty. Although it wasn't surprising, Mary considered anyone who had to work to make a living, impoverished. Reading Mary's letter certainly did not make her want to ever go back to Downton but she also couldn't bear the thought of being alone on Christmas. Perhaps it would be a good idea for her to visit her family and smooth things; she wanted her child to be surrounded by the same love she had growing up. She knew that they might not be able to forgive her for her act of desperation; however they certainly could not blame an innocent child for its parent's sins.

So she resolved to go. The decision was not easy for her but she knew it had to be done; she so desperately missed her family.