and here is part II, just to round things off !
Tom gave her a small, regretful smile before jumping up to open the door of the carriage for her. He stepped out onto the platform to help her down, which she found charming. She waited for him whilst he went back for his luggage. When he disembarked again, they stood looking at each other awkwardly, neither wanting to be the first to leave.
Sybil was the first to break the silence.
"Well – I suppose I'd better find my train. I do hope your new job goes well."
Tom put his suitcase down.
"Thank you, Miss Crawley. I'm sure it will. It – it was a pleasure to meet you."
She gave him a warm smile.
"You too….."
Another silence, full of wistful regret. Neither of them moved.
"Where are you heading ?" she said, suddenly. "Do you know what platform your connection leaves from ?"
"Downton. I - "
Her eyes flew wide.
"But that's where I live !"
An unexpected bubble of happiness burst inside him and he grinned back at her.
"The trains go from platform 9," she said, turning away. "We've got about 10 minutes. Come on – I'll show you the way."
The station was busy with people travelling home after a day's work. He followed her as she weaved between passengers bent of getting back in time for dinner.
"Do you live in the village ?" he asked.
"Not quite," she replied over her shoulder. "But not far from it. And I go quite frequently. What about you ? Where will you be working ?"
Their train was already standing at the platform, shrouded in soot and steam. They'd unconsciously stopped by the third class carriages. There was nothing for it. He would have to tell her the truth – but telling her would inevitably acknowledge the distance between them – a distance he passionately believed should not exist, being simply a fabrication of the society they lived in. Tom had never been ashamed of being a servant, and the rational part of him told him he wasn't about to start now. He lifted his chin and spoke out firmly.
"I'm to be chauffeur to Lord Grantham."
He thought this news would make her uncomfortable, or disappointed – but instead her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh !"
"Lady Sybil ! I didn't realise you had come to York ? We thought you had gone to visit your friend in Knayton"
Sybil looked up to see Mrs Hughes in a smart hat and coat with her hand on a carriage door. She bustled over to join them.
"Lady Sybil ?"
She hung her head.
"Lord Grantham's my father," she said swiftly, looking up at him beneath the brim of her hat. "Please don't be angry with me for not telling you," she pleaded. "It didn't really seem important before – oh, hello, Mrs Hughes. Imogen wasn't feeling well, so I decided to do some shopping instead. I've just run into Mr Branson. He is going to be our new chauffeur. This is Mrs Hughes, our housekeeper."
Mrs Hughes had already noticed the lack of packages in her young mistress's arms and the easy way she had been talking to the young man standing next to her.
For himself, Tom couldn't help but be impressed with the ease with which she lied to the housekeeper, without so much as missing a heartbeat. The housekeeper didn't look convinced. She was evidently the kind of woman who could spot a cooked up story at a hundred paces. Tom would have to remember that.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Branson. Mr Carson told me you were arriving today." The train belched behind them, sending a flurry of soot up into the air. "Perhaps we'd better let Lady Sybil find her seat ?"
Sybil hesitated a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
"I suppose I'd better," she said with evident reluctance. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Branson."
Tom nodded respectfully, but Mrs Hughes noticed the way Sybil had addressed him and the warm smile he gave her in return.
"You too – milady."
And with that Sybil turned and made her way towards the first class carriages. Tom held the door whilst Mrs Hughes climbed into the carriage and watched her be enveloped by the steam. She looked back over her shoulder once. Their eyes met briefly and for a fleeting moment it felt to him as if it were just the two of them on the platform, alone.
She might be a lady and his employer's daughter, and therefore way out of his reach, but Tom had never met anyone quite like her. And he would see her again. Something told him that the easy connection that had been established today wasn't going to be wiped out by his chauffeur's uniform. He couldn't help smiling to himself as he pulled himself into the carriage after Mrs Hughes.
Yes – this new job was going to be very interesting indeed.
