Chapter Two

Sybil Crawley found it hard to sleep that night. Not only was her hand throbbing, but her head was pounding. She had just been about to tell her parents about what James had done to her, when they had dropped the bombshell.

"We want you and James to marry."

The words rang in her ears as though they had only just been spoken, burning into her skin and staying there. She didn't know what to do. They thought it was a perfect match. She the beautiful (apparently) and talented photographer and daughter to the Earl of Grantham and he the Jobless, mean Duke of Crowbrough. She felt sick to her stomach. As she re-called the dreaded evening, she felt even worse.

Sybil made her way down to dinner although all she wanted to do was spend the night in her room with her dog, Sapphire and Ben & Jerry Cookie Dough. But of course bloody American Mother had been persistant and her sisters - Edith and Mary - would be there, alongside her Grandmother, Violet. She arrived in the Dining room and sat down at her usual seat, the far end of the table. The Butler - Carson - was her favourite person in the house (apart from the Housekeeper, Mrs Hughes) and he sensed something was wrong. He would, as always, tell her that there was a phonecall for herand then, he would make her a hot chocolate in the kitchens and let her talk about whatever it was that was currently bothering her. At the moment the only thing bothering her was what her parents were saying and the prospect of spending the rest of her life with a man she hated and would never love. A man like James.

"Wh-what? I don't love him." Sybil insisted. Her Father Robert looked at her Mother, Cora shocked.

"Yes you do silly. You've been together for nearly a year. You wouldn't be together that long if you didn't love him." Her Mother said.

"No, Mother. I'm only with him for you and Father. I hate James. He's a horrible, horrible person and I refuse point blank to marry him." She said.

"Oh Sybil, what now? How can he be horrible?" Mary said. Mary was the oldest and slightly rude and vain, but the middle sister - Edith - was kind and misunderstood. She gazed at Sybil and said,

"You're young and marrying young probably isn't the best thing but you both always seem so happy when you're together?"

Sybil didn't know what to say. She was worried of the trouble she would cause if she told her parents about what had happened that morning. They didn't even know that her and James had slept together. Well, they hadn't slept together. He had forced himself upon her, thinking that she was a virgin and he could 'make her his' but the truth was, she had had a number of secret boyfriends that had always ended when she was discovered to be the Daughter of the Earl of Grantham and his American Wife. Sybil wanted to desperately to tell the truth, but she also so desperately wanted an easy life. She could save some money and run away before there was to be a wedding. Yes. She would do that. That was quite a good idea. She was a good Photographer and June was coming up - the perfect year for a Wedding. She would make money, save it and run away. So she opted to lie to her family, put a brave face on and tell everything to Carson later on. Yes that's what she would do.

"We had a nasty row about something earlier. That was all." She said. "I'm just annoyed still. Of course I'll marry him."

Robert and Cora looked visbly relieved, Mary rolled her eyes and Edith shook her head but Carson looked worried - very worried.

. x .

After dinner, the Family were seated in the Drawing Room and Carson - ever the reliable man - claimed that there was a telephone call for her.

"I''ll get that then go to bed. Goonight." She said.

"That will be all now, Carson. See you in the Morning." Robert said.

"Very well, Milord." Carson said loyally.

Sybil ran as quick as she could and waited. When Carson arrived he began to make her a hot chocolate and not until she began to drink it did he ask.

"What's wrong, Lady Sybil?" She didn't hesitate to tell him the truth.

"Oh, Mr Carson." She said. "This morning I decided to go to London to do some shopping. I know it's quite a way from Ripon but I left early and I wanted to buy myself something nice to wear at Edith's birthday party in August. Anyway, the train wasn't for another hour and I decided to go to the Coffe Shop for an Irish Cream Latte when I saw him. He pushed me into the fence and said I wasn't to leave Ripon unless he gave me permission. I ran away from him and I was upset. There was a man behind me in the queue and he smiled at me. He had lovely blue eyes and a kind smile and it re-assured me that everything would be alright. Then, when I have paid for and recieved my coffee I left the shop intending to go back to the train station but he dragged me away and I accidentally squeezed my cup, the lid coming off and coffee spilling onto my hand and scalding it. I screamed at him, he back handed my face and this young man came and grabbed my hand, runnng away with me to the opposite end of Coburn Street to what the coffee shop was on. He told me to put my hand under warm water, not cold because it would ruin tissue in my hand and dry it, put cream on it and then bandage it up which I did but Mother and Father didn't seem to notice. Anyway, he introduced himself as Tom Branston, I think his name was. He was Irish anyway. Then he said I should end it with James - though he didn't know his name - and went to work. That was that. But now I'm scared. Mother and Father won't believe me and he hurts me."

Carson had listened intently but when she had added then "he hurts me" part his eyes became sad.

"In what way, my dear?" He asked.

"Ermm, many ways. That's all I am saying." She answered, sipping her drink. It made her feel slightly better.

"Well, he needed sorting out. But what will you do?" He asked.

"Save up any money secretly and run away. But of course, he could find out." She said.

"What if I saved the money for you? Or Mrs Hughes? He would never hear of it from either of us. We hate the little bugger anyways. Then when the time comes, you can have it back and do whatever you wish." He told her.

"Would you really do that, Mr Carson?" She asked, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Yes I would. Now, how's your hand?" He asked. "And this lad that helped you. Did you mean Tom Branson? Works on Hopheath Street?"

"Thank you so much. Slightly better, thank you. And yes, that was him. Why do you know him? He's been in my head all night. I don't know why." She answered eagerly.

"He's works for the son of a friend of mine, Evelyn Napier. He's a Journalist and a good one at that. His ex girlfrend ran off with Napier's business partner. Nasty business." Carson said.

"Oh how awful He seemed so lovely." She said.

"Well, why don't you pay him a visit? He could keep you safe and so could Napier. You could earn a bit of extra money working with him, being a photographer for the paper. How about that?" She grinned and hugged Mr Carson, kissing his cheek.

"YES YES YES I would love it. Thank you so so much. What is the office called?" She asked.

"I forget, but I can ring tomorrow and find out. How about that?" He suggested.

"Yes, that would be brilliant. Thank you so much." She said. She yawned and added, "I should probably go to bed, I'm knackered. Thank you again."

"Goodnight, dear. Sleep tight."

Now - at 3.25am - Sybil felt bad. She hated lying to her parents and dragging Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes into the ghastly business, but if she ever wanted an escape route what chance did she have, really? No. She would simply bide her time, do as she said and up and leave.

Though James had warned her that he had spies everywhere and that it didn't matter how secretive she was, it didn't matter what she did to prevent him discovering things, he would find out and then she would be "royally fucked."

God, he sounded like someone off a bad Hollywood Movie. Though it still sent shivers down her spine.

. x .