Sybil awoke in her warm, comfortable, king size bed. Stretching out and squeezing the fluffy pillows around her she took a moment to arrange in her mind what she would be doing that day. She knew she had a party that evening at TigerTiger and would need almost half the day to get ready, but she could not remember what it was she was meant to be doing this morning. Getting out of bed and opening her curtains she looked out over London, already buzzing with the morning rush. As she scanned her view the Abbey Hotel caught her eye and with a smile she rememberd she would be collecting her dress for the upcoming Soldiers charity ball. The Abbey Hotel had helped her to remember as their new resident chauffeur, Branson would be the one taking her to the designers.

Thinking of Branson, Sybil allowed herself a little smile. She didn't know what it was about the chauffeur but in the past week since her first car ride with him, Edith and her mother Sybil had felt almost pleased to see him in the few times they had shared a car since. She supposed it was because she was so used to mingling with people who knew all about her life and who fawned over her the moment she entered a room that someone who claimed to care very little for her celebrity status was quite appealing. Not appealing in that sort of way, of course. The thought made her almost laugh allowed. She may like the new chauffeur but she wasn't about to start a fling with him! Though the blue eyes and Irish accent weren't exactly uninviting...

"Miss Sybil?" came Annas voice at her door breaking Sybil from her train of thought.

Rushing over to the door Sybil let Anna in, who thanked her and wheeled in a small plastic filing cabinet full of makeup and hair supplies.

"Sorry I haven't showered yet Anna, I won't be a moment." Sybil explained as she walzed off to her bathroom.

"No worries Miss, I'll just get your stuff out."

While Sybil stood under the shower she thought of how she would ask Anna to do her hair for today and the party this evening. She supposed she would have to go all out as usual, as Mary and Edith often pointed out, you never knew who was going to be there. What they meant was you never knew which famous actor or proffessional footballer may stroll in. Sybil paused in washing her hair at that thought. If she was honest, just recently she had become a little sick of the stories in magazines about her and a supposed new boyfriend everytime she so much as brushed shoulders with an eligable bachelor. However, this news always pleased her mother and father, who were insistant that she meet someone just as famous and wealthy as she was, so they knew for certain that there was no gold digging or fame hungering involved. Ahh well, thought Sybil, she wouldn't have it any other way, would she?

o o o

At 11:00 Tom Branson made sure to be waiting by the door of the requested car of the day, the Chrysler 300c. He couldn't help but keep glancing back at the car. He had enjoyed his first few weeks at Downton and the cars were certainly part of that enjoyment. Also the staff, especially William had been really welcoming, in fact just last night some of them had gone out for an Indian together. There was something else keeping Tom cheery aswell but he wasn't sure exactly what. He didn't have time to think either as Miss Sybil could be seen strolling down Downtons stairs toward him. Noting how she kept her cool even with passers by gawping at her and flashing their cameras every few seconds he couldn't help smile at her in praise. Realising that he must look like an idiot however, he straightened his features as he let her into the car.

"Cheery this morning Branson?" Sybil noted before gliding into the back seat tapping away at her phone.

Whilst they drove Sybil enjoyed a phonecall with an Emma and text away on her phone like there was no tomorrow. Tom almost forgot she was there for a moment and swore quite loudly when he saw the traffic ahead.

Realising his mistake Tom turned to Sybil. "Sorry for that Miss. Crawley. I'm just a bit surprised at all this traffic!"

She gave him a sly smile "Thats no problem Branson, I'm not exactly in a rush." And with that she whipped out a glittery pink laptop from under the seat and disappeared behind the huge screen.

Two hours found Tom watching Sybil finally leave the shop. She was carrying quite a few large bags and Tom rushed forward instantly to help her and could not stop himself from asking. "Did you get your own way with the dress? Only I heard you weren't exactly keen on what you and your mum had chosen.

Sybil gave a laugh and a smile and Tom could not help but look up and catch her eye.

"Well I think mum will be surprised, lets leave it at."

o o o

As they drove back to the hotel Tom had to take a different route due to a message from Carson that the paparazzi were gathering around the main route to Downton.

"I'm sorry about this Miss. Sybil."

But Sybil didn't mind, in fact she was quite enjoying the journey imagining the reactions of the crowds tonight when they saw her outfit. She wondered if Branson had caught her grinning and thought it was to him as he began to speak.

"You know, I couldn't help over hearing you the other week and it sounds to me like you support our armed forces?"

Sybil had to admit to herself of all the things she expected Branson to say, it hadn't been that. Trying to remember what was said the week before she brushed a stray hair from her face. She was only used flirting with men and chatting about the latest partys and gossip, so this topic of conversation was quite alien to her. Remembering then that she had mentioned the focus being on the soldiers to her mother, she looked to Branson in the mirror "Well yeh, I suppose I do."

She liked the way he grinned at this comment, as though she had said something interesting. She really liked it. Not wanting the conversation to stop, she undid her seatbelt and clambered into the passenger seat with as much grace as was possible. Straightening out her jumper dress she turned to Branson who looked stunned at the invasion.

"Miss. Sybil I really don't think your father would like you sat by clear windows. Maybe you should move ba-"

"Oh Branson if the paparazzi begins to chase us I have twenty one years running experience on my side. I can cope." She raised her eyebrows at him as though proving a point and noticed as she did so that he seemed suddenly relaxed about the situation. "So why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry?" he replied, checking his rearview mirror.

"About me supporting the armed forces?"

"Ah, that. Well, I'm quite political and if had my way there wouldn't be any war. But as it goes there is and I'm all for supporting the people who put their necks on the line for us."

Sybil didn't know what to say for a moment. Aside from noting once again that she rarely had a conversation like this she also noticed how easily Branson seemed to speak to her. There was no pretentcious tone to his voice, he wasn't trying to please her or make her feel important. He wasn't acting as though he was nervous talking to her or worried about saying the wrong thing. A lot people who spoke to her usually did, always worrying how she could ruin their reputation with all her media attention.

"Infact, I uhh, I brought you some things, about Help For Heros and all that. Just open the glove compartment."

"The what?" Sybil was confused having always sat in the back of a car and could not help giggling at Bransons shocked face.

"Here." He leaned over and opened the compartment infront of her and pulled out some pamphlets. Sybil could not help but notice how he brushed her leg as he did so. There was something else she noticed also.

"Chanel Allure." Sybil had spoken without thinking and noticing Bransons confused look, continued "Thats what you're wearing isn't it? Allure?"

"I- I am. Is that some sort of skill of being an heiress, fragrance guessing?" He gave her a sarcastic grin.

"No! It's just, well I wear Allure for women. It's my favourite." For some reason she felt a blush reach her cheeks.

Branson broke the small silence that followed. "Well look, its just some pamphlets on donating money to soldiers who have been hurt and meetings and all that lot. Just thought they would interest you."

Sybil, who was already reading one of the leaflets looked up at him "Thanks, really. You know, it seems very unlikely, a political chauffeur. No offence."

"None taken. Anyway I won't always be a chauffeur, one day I'll rule the world." He smirked and then he winked at her. Sybil couldn't quite explain why but she felt a little flip in her stomach as he did so. "Anyway Miss, I think it's time you climbed in the back, you're almost home."

o o o

The following week found Tom pulling up to the plush charity event, driving extra slow due to the intense light cast by the the thousands of cameras. The noise of cheers and shouting was only slightly muted inside the car. As he pulled up the ladies inside shuffled with anticipation. The most eager to get out was Sybil, who Tom noticed was being looked at with disdain by her mother and sisters.

"Can we get out Branson?"

"Yes Miss. Crawley I'll just get the door." However Tom had barely got out of his own seat before Sybil opened her own and stepped out. Tom could not help grinning as the spectators gasped at her attire. For she was not wearing a short, flashy dress like her mother expected nor was she in an elegant evening gown. She stepped forward to pose infront of the cameras, wearing not a dress of any kind, but a suit, a mans tuxedo made feminine only by a silk Help for Heros sash tied around her middle and a pair of shockingly high stilettos. And in Toms opinion, she was the most stunning woman on the red carpet.

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