Disclaimer: These characters were created by Julian Fellowes not by me. They belong to him. I am very curious about what transpired between episode 2.07 and 2.08 that allowed Branson to still be working at Downton Abbey after the attempted elopement with Sybil. So I have imagined that situation here. Enjoy!
Prologue
The door closed and there was silence.
Tom
His heart was racing as he sat on the bed with his head in his hands. Had that really just happened? One minute she was there, the next – a confrontation with her sisters, and in a moment, they were all gone.
His heart was still racing. And breaking… ever so slightly.
He knew the chances of them being together were always slim, but the closer they got to Scotland, the more he'd let himself be excited – about Sybil, the love he had for her and the future that he was only now – finally – allowing himself to glimpse, to imagine, and to make plans for.
He lay down on the bed.
He wasn't sure if he'd sleep tonight, but there was nothing else to do. He felt empty. Staring at the wallpaper on the ceiling, he didn't know if five minutes or five hours had gone by.
He wasn't sure if he'd slept or not, but when the sun came up in a clear spring dawn, he knew it was time to leave.
Sybil
Her sisters bundled her down the steps and into the night. She barely registered that there was someone else in the motor. She was miserable. Miserable, and embarrassed, for herself and for Tom.
She had never more keenly felt like the youngest sister. Disempowered. Bossed around. She hated the feeling, and she hated being taken away from him.
She sat miserably as her sister started the motor and turned it around. The trip back to Downton was quiet – everyone was tired and no one was willing to break the silence.
She fell asleep briefly against the window and woke when her head gave it a nasty bump. Finally they pulled into the long drive leading to the garage. The sun wasn't up, but dawn wasn't far off. The air was clear as she walked from the garage to the house. She wasn't sure if the goosebumps that ran down her arms were from the cool morning air, or the darkness that had descended over her mind.
Chapter 1 – The First Day
Sybil
Sybil woke, rolling over and glancing towards the drapes. By her reckoning, it was mid morning. So she'd managed to sleep for a few hours, but she didn't feel any better. Her first priority was to talk with Mary.
She quickly rang the bell for Anna, who helped her dress and hastily unpack her bags. The most important thing was to make sure Mamma and Pappa didn't find out that anything had transpired – at least not yet.
Hurrying downstairs, she found Mary in the dining room.
"Mary," she said. "Can we go for a walk when you finish your breakfast?"
"Of course, darling," she said, motioning for Carson to bring Sybil a cup of tea.
Sybil drank the tea, then followed Mary out to the garden. She started, "Mary, I don't know what to say about last night…"
"Sybil, for once I'm lost for words too. I don't know what to say about last night. I'm just glad that nothing happened – that is one good thing – but I honestly don't know what to tell Pappa," Mary said.
"Do you think it's necessary to tell Pappa?"
"I honestly don't know. Part of me wants Pappa to charge Branson with kidnap and set him before a magistrate—"
"Oh you can't do that!" Sybil interrupted.
"Oh Sybil, calm down and let me finish," Mary said. "Part of me… wants to see him punished. He had no right to speak with you in a familiar manner, let alone tell you he loves you and suggest that you run off together.
"The OTHER part of me doesn't want to see Pappa hurt. He's been through a very rough time. He's unhappy about his position since the war. He was so very worried about Matthew, and he's only just getting back to being himself."
Mary stopped and turned around to Sybil.
"I just don't want to see him hurt any further. And Sybil, to hear about what you did last night, well… You do know it will be his undoing."
Sybil nodded her acknowledgement and looked at the ground.
"Yes. Yes I do know Mary. I don't know what to do either. Tom will bring the motor back, and I'm sure he will expect to leave. I know I can't go with him now. You were right – there will be a time and a way to bring this up with Pappa. And now is not the time. But what will I say to him when he comes back?"
Mary smiled the hint of a smile. Perhaps it wasn't going to be so hard to change Sybil's mind after all.
"I haven't had time to think it through in great detail," Mary began. "But I guess Branson must stay, otherwise Pappa will want to know what happened to make him leave in such a hurry. I'm sure Branson feels incredibly uncomfortable about the whole affair, I'm sure it won't be long until he decides to resign anyway."
"What are you going to say to him?" asked Sybil.
"To Branson? Not much. But I will make it clear to him that he's not welcome here, and that it would be in his best interests to seek employment elsewhere, and soon – otherwise I will tell Pappa all that I know," Mary said.
Sybil was quiet.
"Sybil dear?" Sybil looked up.
"What are you going to say to him?" asked Mary.
"To Tom? I don't know. I really don't know Mary. I love him, I'm certain of it. It seemed so clear for just a moment, but now I don't know what to say or what to do. It's like my thoughts have gone dark, foggy I guess, and the whole world with it," Sybil said.
Mary took Sybil's hand and rubbed it with true affection.
"Everything will be alright Sybil. Rest on it for a few days," she said. "With the passage of time, things that seemed insurmountable suddenly become a little clearer, and you'll know better what to do. In the meantime, I don't think you should visit the garage for a while."
And with that, Mary led Sybil back to the house.
Tom
Tom drove the motor up the drive towards the house. He was troubled. He didn't know what reception would be waiting for him once he got to the garage – he wasn't sure if Lord Grantham would send Carson to dismiss him on the spot, or if they would prolong his misery and make him wait before he was to discover his fate.
But there was one thing he knew for certain – he would be leaving Downton Abbey today.
And he honestly didn't mind. It didn't concern him to be dismissed with no reference. Driving was a job he'd taken many years ago now, but the world was becoming different for people in the working classes, and he was determined not to let the opportunity to change his life pass him by.
But he had wanted Sybil by his side when he ventured out into this new world, and this morning, that dream seemed further away than ever.
He drove up to the garage – the doors were closed and there didn't seem to by anyone waiting outside. He stopped the motor briefly to open the doors, before driving the car in. Once the car was parked, he closed the garage doors again. While a confrontation was inevitable, there was no point in advertising he was back.
He set about cleaning up the car, which was showing the wear and tear of being on the longest drive of its life. He might be harbouring resentment about his situation, his life and especially a certain few inhabitants of Downton Abbey, but he'd kept this car well tended for the past five and a half years and wasn't about to let standards slip now.
As always when he was working on the motor, his mind wandered. He went through the motions cleaning up the car while he thought about what he should do next. He wanted to stay close to Sybil, but wasn't sure if and how that would be possible. Lord Grantham rightly could order him off the estate and its keepings, including Downton village. There was no point staying in Ripon as it was too far away and he was sure Sybil's keen-eyed sisters would not be allowing her to take many trips into town alone.
Time ticked by as his impossible thoughts turned over and over in his mind, when he was suddenly roused from his work by the garage doors rattling as they were opened.
"Oh you are there, Mr Branson." It was one of the kitchen boys.
"Mr Carson has sent me out to tell you Lord Grantham needs to be driven to Ripon at noon. Mrs Patmore will pack you a sandwich. He expects to return around three," he said.
"I'm… I'm sorry, did you just say Lord Grantham needs to be driven to Ripon?" Tom asked.
"Yes, that's right Mr Branson. Mr Pratt has taken Lady Grantham to the society meeting in the village so you will have to take His Lordship."
Tom was baffled.
"Excellent, I will be ready for His Lordship then," he said and the kitchen boy returned to the house.
"Well, it looks like it will be death by torture then," he muttered to himself and retreated to his cottage to put on his uniform.
Mary
As the afternoon slowly faded into the evening, Mary sat on the bench in the garden watching the spring evening creep in. Her mind wasn't at ease. Her mind had, in fact, not been at ease since she found the note on Sybil's mantelpiece the night before.
She loved her little sister dearly. Despite her foray into nursing, Sybil was innocent, sweet and a little too naïve. In hindsight, Mary could see that she was perfect pickings for someone like that damn chauffeur to come along and persuade her to make stupid decisions. Honestly, she asked herself. Who did he think he was?
In Mary's ordered world, everyone knew their place and stayed there. That's just how life was; the boundaries were black and white.
Mary glanced at the small fob watch she kept in her pocket. By her reckoning, Carson would ring the dinner bell in the next 20 minutes. From her position in the garden, she'd seen Pappa return from Ripon in the car driven by Branson, so she knew he would be on the grounds. If she wanted to confront him, it was now or never.
She stood up and brushed down her coat, then made her way quickly toward the garage. She could hear bangs and other muffled noises coming from inside before she reached it, so she knew he was there. She walked up to the door and called out.
"Branson!" She knew her voice was cold and businesslike, and it commanded attention.
After a moment's silence, he spoke.
"Yes m'lady." And a second later, he walked slowly out from behind the motor. Coming forward, his shoulders were squared and his chin held high. Mary moved a few steps into the garage.
"I wanted to talk to you about last night. Of course you know that I am displeased at what took place. The reputations you put at risk – Sybil's, not to mention that of our family. But what I really want to know is – what on earth were you thinking?"
He started at her unblinkingly for a moment, before he began.
"Lady Mary. I have worked for this family for the past five and a half years. In that time, I have been polite and respectful. I sit at the front of this vehicle, taking you places, keeping you safe while you're on the road.
"You sit in that vehicle talking about your life of privilege, and you believe wholeheartedly that you deserve to be in your position based solely on your right of birth. You don't see me driving you, and when you have noticed me, you only notice someone who enhances your life in some way – a commodity, something you own, if you will. I know everything about you, while you know nothing about me."
"I don't think that's—," Mary began.
"I haven't finished," he said, raising his voice slightly.
"From the first day I started working for your family, however, Lady Sybil noticed me. She spoke to me. She treated me with respect and dignity, and she truly humbled me. We have become acquainted over a long time, and the longer I have known her, the more I love her for the person she is – someone who has true humanity," he said.
He paused a moment, looking down and putting his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry M'lady. That is all I will say. Lady Sybil and I do not share much in our lives, and to say anymore would be to give away the last of the connection we've shared."
He looked up at her then, with the hint of a smile on his lips.
"Not to mention that I think, quite frankly, that anything else is none of your business."
Mary was taken aback. Shocked, mostly, that a member of the staff dared to speak with her like that. It was so unusual in fact, that she had no idea what to say next.
Robbed of her ability to produce a quick comeback, she said, "I spoke with Lady Sybil this morning. She's quite upset and confused, and will be resting for the next few days. She knows that I've come to talk with you, and she didn't pass any message. So you may interpret that as you like."
Branson continued with his steely glare. Mary quietly cleared her throat.
"Lord and Lady Grantham are still oblivious to what happened last night, and I think it's better kept that way. I have my reasons, and they're not for a servant to know. Suffice to say that Pappa does not need a scandal to deal with right now.
"So I am granting you my patience. I am very happy to inform you that my patience is entirely finite. So you have a month to find another situation and leave quietly and appropriately. And in the meantime, I will continue to counsel Sybil, and I would advise you to keep away from her."
Then she turned abruptly on her heel and walked back to the house. As she entered the door, the dinner gong rang.