Author's Note: Speculation as to the encounter between Alfred and Tom Branson in Season 3, episode 1 on the first night Alfred was assigned to "dress" Lady Sybil's husband.

Disclaimer: I'm not even a custodian, my dears, let alone an owner. These characters and their setting are the work of others. I hope I do not offend with my homage.

"There's the dressing gong." Lady Sybil said. "Someone should be in to assist you shortly."

"Do you really think Mr. Carson is going to send someone up here to help me put my suitcoat on?" her husband asked, smiling. "He wouldn't even speak to me, let alone help me 'dress.' Besides, he knows perfectly well I don't need any help."

Tom's wife only smiled at him archly, and said what he always said to her, "He'll come around eventually, and when he does, you'll 'welcome him with open arms.'"

Tom smiled at her. "I will at that. May it be soon."

There was a soft tap at door. Tom went to answer it in his shirtsleeves.

It was the immensely tall new footman standing outside. "I'm to help you dress, sir."

"What's your name?" Tom asked.

"Alfred, sir."

Tom looked back into the room at his wife. "You were right, Sybil. Alfred's here to help me dress." He turned back to the footman cum valet. "I'll meet you next door." He closed the bedroom door, and came over to kiss his prescient wife, and to pick up his coat from where he had hung it on the back of a chair. "See you downstairs." He left through the other door which led to a normally unused dressing room, and closed the connecting door behind him.

The tall footman was already in the room. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. I was told to help you dress? I've never done this before, sir."

Tom thought about what he had heard Thomas, William, and Mr. Bates say about dressing people. "Well, here's my suitcoat…" he handed it to Alfred. "Perhaps you could brush it, while I go wash up?"

Alfred nodded, and hung the coat on the wooden stand to brush it, while Tom slipped out the door to the hall.

Tom was back a few minutes later, but now his hair was damp and tousled, his tie was off and the collar of his shirt open, his tie and vest over his arm. He smiled happily up at Alfred, who took the garments from him. "Now you can help me put them back on."

Tom's shirt, unlike a dress shirt, had a soft attached collar and barrel cuffs, which closed with buttons instead of cufflinks, nor was the shirt white, but despite the unorthodox costume, Alfred was set at ease by the smaller man's smiling naturalness, as he obligingly allowed Alfred to button him up, tie his tie in a careful if unpracticed Windsor, and help him back into his vest and coat.

Tom questioned Alfred gently about how long he'd been at the house, and how he liked it. Alfred said it was only his second day, and he hoped he'd be able to give satisfaction.

Tom picked up the comb, then stopped. "Do I comb my hair, or do you?"

Alfred thought. "I think I do, sir."

Tom handed him the comb, and stood quietly, while the big man combed his hair back into order. Alfred thought it was like getting one of the children ready for church, except his charge was quieter.

"Will I do, Alfred?" the Irishman smiled up at him.

"Yes, sir, I believe you will."