Chapter 2

In which Sybil visits and persuades Mary to accompany her to a political event.

"Mary! Mary, over here!"

Mary looked up from her watch just in time to see an excited Sybil throw her arms around her in a hug.

"Hello, Sybil," she said stiffly, patting her sister gently on the back until she let go. "And happy birthday for Wednesday."

"Oh, Mary, it's so good to see you!" Sybil said, putting her arm through Mary's as they left the train station.

"You saw me just last week."

"But it feels like ages! It's very quiet when you're not around, and especially now that Edith's gone off as well, and it's just me. I never thought I would miss you two bickering so much!"

Mary sighed, clearly annoyed. "Do we have to talk about Edith?"

"There's the Mary we know and love!" Sybil looked around as they walked through Oxford, gazing at the buildings that surrounded them. "This place really does look like Hogwarts, doesn't it? Well, I suppose lots of it is Hogwarts."

Mary was perfectly happy to let Sybil babble on about everything she saw if it meant that she didn't have to engage in small talk. She'd never admit it, but she enjoyed spending time with Sybil, even if her constant optimism and ideals could get occasionally wearing.

"Mama and Papa have been all but planning your wedding, you know," Sybil said out of the blue, pulling Mary from her thoughts.

Mary sighed deeply. "I'm not surprised. Papa was pestering poor Thomas about it when they were down last week, it put him in quite the awkward situation. We'd hoped that he'd managed to put Papa off for a bit longer, but obviously not."

"When will you two realise that this whole 'fake relationship' thing is absurd? You and Thomas both deserve happiness with someone you love, and you're not helping anyone by insisting on keeping this up. And besides, you know Edith will find a way to hold it against you at some point."

"Oh, Edith doesn't care," Mary said flippantly. "We talked about it, but decided to keep going for now. Thomas is worried that people will figure it out, and I don't blame him; not after what happened before. If I had my way he'd be dancing down the street wearing nothing but a rainbow flag, but as it is he's so far in the closet that he's practically in Narnia."

"But don't you think - "

"He's my friend, and that means that I support his decisions. Even if I don't think that they're necessarily right. There's no one else here who knows from before, so he's safe. And that's all that matters." Smiling, Mary turned to Sybil. "Now, tell me all about your birthday!"

Thomas was waiting outside Mary's room when they reached the college, a card and present in hand.

"Happy birthday, Sybil!" he said as they approached, giving her a hug. "How does it feel to finally be a legal adult?"

"Oh, the responsibilities are weighing me down already!" Sybil joked, pretending to feel faint, making Thomas laugh. Mary couldn't help but smile at the sight; Thomas had always had a soft spot for Sybil, treating her as if she was his younger sister.

Letting them all into her room, Mary sat in her desk chair as Sybil and Thomas chatted away. In a way, she was jealous of the relationship they had. She and Thomas may be partners in crime, and Sybil may be her sister – and the only one of her sisters she liked – but it was obvious that Thomas and Sybil cared for each other in a way that was just their own. Smiling to herself, she remembered the way Thomas had gone after a boy who rejected Sybil when she was thirteen, landing himself detention, or how Sybil had baked him a cake when he came out to her.

"It sounds like you've had a busy time of it," Thomas said, laughing at a story Sybil had told of her school friends' antics. "So, what do you want to do tonight? It's your eighteenth birthday; can't let it go by without a celebration!"

"Today's not actually my birthday," Sybil corrected him. "That was on Wednesday."

"But did you go out on Wednesday?" Thomas asked with a knowing smile.

"We went to the theatre; it really was wonderful!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Sybil sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine; I haven't been out yet. But none of my friends are eighteen yet, and it was a school night."

"Well, that simply won't do!" Mary said. "Tonight, we are taking you out. You can buy your first legal drink, we can go round all of the student bars – it will be fun!"

Thomas grinned, excited. "Yeah – we'll show you all the sights of Oxford, at least those you can see from a bar stool! You'll have a blast."

"As long as you, Thomas, remember that you're not as good as good at holding your alcohol as you think you are," Mary said. "Remember that time when - "

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Don't think you're getting out of telling Sybil the story," Mary said to Sybil's amusement as she opened the door, revealing Tom Branson.

"Hello, Tom," Mary said, as Thomas called "Hello!" from inside her room.

"Hello Mary, Thomas," Tom replied. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly slightly on edge. Not for the first time, Mary felt a pang of guilt; Tom didn't really have many friends, thanks to his tendency to discuss politics until the sun went down, although he was nice enough.

He continued, "The Labour society are having an open meeting tonight for freshers, and I wondered if you or Thomas would like to go? There'll be free food and wine."

"The Labour society?"

Tom's ears visibly perked up at the sound of a new voice, as Sybil appeared in the doorway. "Y-yes," he stammered. "I'm the, er, I'm the president. Of the society, I mean. The Labour society." His cheeks turned slightly pink as he saw Sybil's eager face. He stuck a hand out awkwardly. "I'm, er, I'm Tom Branson."

"Sybil Grantham; Mary's sister," she said warmly, seemingly oblivious to the way Tom was turning pinker by the second. "So, you're the president of the Labour society? How exciting! You know, our family are traditional Conservative voters, but I have to say that Labour's policies seem to be much more in line with what the country needs."

Tom only nodded, speechless.

"What sort of things do you do in the Labour society?"

Mary couldn't help but stand there, flabbergasted, as the usually talkative and eloquent Tom was turned into a bumbling mess.

"Well, we, er, we discuss politics. A lot. Which, er, shouldn't surprise you, really. And we talk to our local Labour councillors and MPs, about what we think should be done in the area, and they tell us what we can do to help. And we campaign. For Labour, I mean. So… yes, I think that just about sums it up."

"Sounds marvellous!" Sybil's face was wide with excitement. "So, Tom, what do you study?"

"Philosophy, Politics and Economics," Tom managed to stammer out. "I want to, I want to go into Politics, you see."

Sybil's expression got inexplicable brighter. "That really is wonderful!"

"Miss Grantham – I mean, Sybil – would you, er, like to go to the meeting tonight, then? It's not as formal as it usually is, just a chance for everyone to, er, get to know each other, talk politics. You don't have to, if you don't want to, but - "

"I'd love to!"

Mary suddenly felt the need to intervene. "Hang on a second, Sybil! You're going out with us tonight, remember?"

"But I'd much rather go to this, Mary. I'm truly sorry; I hope you understand?"

Looking between Tom and Sybil's equally eager faces, Mary knew that she was fighting a losing battle.

"Fine," Mary sighed. "But I'm coming with you! I'm not letting you go out by yourself with a socialist." She whipped her head round at Thomas' snort. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," he laughed, "Just that you sounded exactly like your father."

"I most certainly did not - "

"You did," Sybil giggled. "You sounded just like Papa. Thomas, would you like to come too?"

"Oh, I'd love to," Thomas drawled, making it very clear that he'd rather be anywhere else, "But I have an essay that I'd better get on with." He pushed past the others in the doorway, letting his hand linger slightly on Mary's arm for Tom's sake. "See you all later!"

"I don't believe this," Mary grumbled. "This was not how the evening was supposed to turn out! We're supposed to be downing pints, not mingling with left-wingers."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Oh, do lighten up, Mary. Look at it this way; you love to have an argument, and here is a room full of people who all vehemently disagree with your political principles. They're practically gift-wrapped."

Mary shrugged. "I suppose."

"Sybil, can I get you a glass of wine?"

"Thank you, Tom; that would be lovely!" Sybil replied before turning back to Mary.

"Thank you, Tom, for offering to get me one as well," Mary pretended to call after him.

Sybil frowned. "Really, Mary, bitterness doesn't suit you. All I want is to have a nice evening, so could you please at least try?"

Damn, Mary thought, I never could resist those puppy eyes for long.

"Fine. I'll occupy myself by annoying some socialists; you enjoy your evening with Tom."

It was worth it for the smile that burst onto Sybil's face. "Oh, thank you Mary!" She leant forwards, kissing her sister on the cheek. "I promise to spend all of tomorrow with you, every single minute!"

As Sybil went with Tom to talk to some of the other committee members, Mary made a beeline for where the wine was being served. She downed the first glass she was given in one, swiftly handing it over for a refill, ignoring the startled look of the server.

"Are you okay there?"

She turned, somewhat dizzily, to see a tall young man with blond hair, a classically handsome face and piercing blue eyes. He looked equal parts concerned and bemused at her behaviour, eyeing the second glass of wine that she held carefully.

"I'm as good as can be," she said, raising her glass. "Or at least, as good as can be when you've been dragged to one of these god-awful events by your politically-minded sister."

The man chuckled. "Ah, so… you're not particularly political, then?"

"I am when it suits me."

"Ah, I see." He looked at her quizzically. "Tell me, how did you vote in the last election?"

"Conservative, of course," she said, raising an eyebrow as if it should be obvious.

"Not so loud in here," he hushed her, "Or they'll hear you and demand that you pay more taxes. Although I would have guessed that you'd vote that way; I've never heard anyone with an accent like yours to vote any way but Tory."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing; just that…" he trailed off.

"Just that what?"

"Just that you've probably led a very entitled, privileged life until now."

She scoffed at that. "Oh, yes, my life has been just fine and dandy. You're fairly well-spoken yourself; it's a bit rich for you to criticise me."

"I may have had a fairly privileged life, but at least I'm aware of it, and have some idea of how the other half live."

Mary was fuming, ready to explode, but after a few seconds of failing to think of a retort she backed down again, eyeing the man with equal parts suspicion and respect.

"Mary Grantham," she said eventually, holding her hand out. "English and Oriental Studies undergraduate, Downton College."

"I'm doing a Law postgraduate at Christ Church college," he said, shaking her hand. "Matthew Crawley."

Thank you for all the reviews (already!) on the first chapter - I've been a bit overwhelmed by the response! This chapter is a little shorter, but I'm not going to be able to write for the next week and I wanted to get this out.

Please leave a review with your thoughts, it makes all the difference!