No Branson in this chapter i'm afraid (surpirse surprise!) but a lot about how the news of his death affects the family ad particularly Sybil. But don't worry! Things start to pick up at the arrival of some injured soldiers to Downton.

Jo x

Sybil woke at the sound of birds the next morning, and for the first time in her life, it sounded to her as if they were singing a requiem of sorrow, instead of their usual hallelujah chorus. She couldn't bear to face the world that morning; not after the heart stopping news she'd heard just last night. Reaching over to pull the bell chord, she heard the sound of footsteps outside her room, before pausing at the sound of a knock on the door.

"Milady?" Anna knocked again. "Milady are you awake?"

"Yes Anna. It's fine. Come in." As she entered, Sybil turned to face the fireplace to hide the small tears that were beginning to well up inside her blood-shot eyes.

"Milady, I'm here to dress you in your mourning clothes today. Everybody in the house has been told to wear black. Also, our first lot of injured soldiers are arriving today, so although we'll be in mourning, we'll have to look our cheeriest for those brave lads." Anna made her way over to the lady, but stopped in her tracks at the sound of a gasping cry.

"Milady? Are you alright?" Sybil turned round, revealing her pouring eyes and overheated face.

"I did love him!" Sybil declared as her voice shattered into pieces. Anna wasn't taken aback by this anguished declaration of love; she'd suspected something between the two of them ever since Branson had been pacing up and down the staff dining room the night Sybil had been knocked unconscious at the riot. She did however feel the need to walk forward towards her, stretch out an arm around her and let her weep into her shoulder. Anna had never seen someone so distraught, but she knew full well that the best thing to say to a person in extreme grief is absolutely nothing. Heart wrenching sobs of breathlessness could be heard outside in the hallway, until Anna finally persuaded Sybil to hold everything back for a little while, get changed and go downstairs for something to eat.

"Good morning Sybil." His lordship uttered as she entered into the dining room in her full black gown.

"Good morning papa," She acknowledged her father's presence, "Mama," Before acknowledging her mother's.

"Are you alright this morning my dear?" Cora gave Sybil a reassuring voice.

"I'm fine mama, no need to worry." Sybil grabbed a plate full of bacon and hash browns, before piling a mountain of sauce onto her plate, filling her glass full to the brim of champagne, marching to her seat and sitting down. She loaded a fork-full of bacon into her mouth in a hurry to get away from the last people in the world she wanted to break down in tears in front of; not if they knew it was all because of their late chauffeur.

"Sybil, you know you're going to get heartburn if you eat that much that fast."

"Mama, to be honest, I couldn't care a fig about heartburn this morning." Sybil lowered a fork on its way to the mouth as she spoke.

"Darling are you sure you're alright?" Her father questioned.

"My love you do look a bit red in the cheeks." Cora spoke.

"I'm fine! Look at me, I'm fine! Will people please stop worrying about me and getting in my way!" Sybil dropped her knife and fork with an almighty crash as she jumped up from her seat and stormed out the room again. Cora and Robert looked at each other concerned and wondered if they would ever have a normal meal at the table without someone charging out ever again.

Later that afternoon, Sybil stood by the door, counting the young men walking, limping, hopping their way through the door and ticking each one off with their name, information and army number on her long list.

"That's all of 'em Mr Carson." A tired voice echoed round the entrance hall.

"Thank you Taylor. You've been a great asset to us since poor Mr Branson left us a few months ago." Sybil's eyes darted up to the green figure by standing by the door. For a brief moment she thought she saw him, she thought by some miracle everything was the way it was before her world came tumbling down those few months ago when he admitted he'd volunteered. But her eyes focused properly and she saw the old, familiar face of Taylor standing there instead. She had some fond memories of growing up with Taylor sitting in the driver's seat, but none fonder than those she'll remember for the rest of her life, those with Tom in.

"Are you alright miss?" One soldier spoke as her eyes darted back again to the one legged soldier in front of her. Her heart picked up pace at the hint of an Irish brogue. Or was it her imagination? She couldn't tell anymore. It had felt like so long since she'd heard one as comforting as that.

"Oh, yes. I'm fine. Your name please?"

"Sergeant Brian Duffy, Royal Irish Regiment." She looked at his leg again, and she stared at his scolded face. She could see it all so clearly, it was all too vivid for her. Tom lying in some hellish trench somewhere in the middle of nowhere; his leg blown off and bleeding to death with nobody to help him. Nobody to hear his agonizing cries.

"Brian Duffy. Good to see you alive." Her voice cracking again as a few small tears escaped. He fidgeted and fumbled as he stood there nervous before saying,

"I'm not exactly good with crying women, ask my wife!" He joked before she let out a small chuckle.

"Here," He pulled out a small hanky from his pocket, holding it out for her, "take this." She quietly thanked him, took the hanky, wiped her eyes on it and offered it to him again.

"No, it's alright. You take it. My friend in the trenches gave it to me after I found out my father had died from cancer. Couldn't hold 'em in you see! I'm sure if I tell him that I gave it to a beautiful young lady in need of something to sob against then I'm sure he won't complain in the slightest."

"You shouldn't compliment me so Sergeant! As you said, your wife will weep and you're not very good around crying women are you?" She smiled at him; tucking the hanky away. "You're in cot number eight in the drawing room, straight ahead."

"Thank you miss!"

"No, thank you Sergeant!" She replied as he hopped off towards his cot. She was glad that in such a distressing time as losing the one you loved, she'd found a friend to help cheer her up, and hopefully in time she would heal him back to full health so he can go home to Mrs Duffy; preventing her from feeling the same pain that she was feeling right now.

A week passed and one Saturday morning, Robert sat in his crowded study full off relaxing soldiers reading, writing, playing Bridge and Poker. He sat at his study, carefully examining the medical journals that had been given to the Downton to study, when all of a sudden his bubble of calm and tranquillity was burst at the low, piercing sound of Carson echoed round his ears.

"The records of the soldiers arriving today milord. I believe you wanted to see them."

"Yes, thank you Carson. Be sure the beds in the Arundel and Stanhope rooms are ready for them at 2 o'clock. We wouldn't want them to have to wait around for a free bed."

"Very good Milord."

"Thank you Carson." And with that, the butler left him to his study. Robert began to read up on the men and assign them to different rooms. There weren't many to look at, but as he reached the bottom of the small pile, his brow furrowed at the words assembled together before him.

Hope you enjoyed it! more to come of course. Please review if you have the time! I'm sure you're aware how much reviews mean to us fellow writers.