A/N: Once again, thanks to everyone for their feedback !


"Do you really think Larry would bring her up here ?" asked Tom as he followed Sybil up the claustrophobic staircase that lead up to the attics.

"He might do," she answered, "we used to play up here as children. I doubt Rose knows how to get to the attics so she'd be lost if she broke away from him."

They came to a door that had been partially propped open with a box. Clambering over it, she disappeared and suddenly the area was flooded with light.

It was like no attic Tom had ever seen. It looked like any other room at Downton, albeit shabbier, with cavernous ceilings that allowed the dust they'd disturbed to stream slowly upwards, made visible in the harsh light of bare lightbulbs. The space was liberally scattered with an odd mix of furniture that had obviously fallen out of fashion, giving it a forlorn air, as if the chairs and wardrobes were waiting for someone to remember them.

"Rose ?" Sybil called hopefully. There was no answer. A draught blew in from the high windows leading out onto the roof, making her shiver.

"You're getting cold," Tom said, taking off his jacket. "Here, put this on."

She took it gratefully and slipped into it, her hands disappearing in the length of the arms. Wrapping it around herself, she ventured further in amongst the abandoned furniture.

"I've not been up here in years," she said. Tom watched her as she wandered around the room, occasionally reaching out to touch an object. He examined her profile as she trailed her fingers across the brocade of a lugubrious, overstuffed armchair, wondering what childhood memories she was reliving. It was unreadable.

"Isn't this hideous ?" she said, looking up at him, a merry smile on her lips. She turned to survey the room. "What a lot of old junk. I don't know why they keep it up here. I'm sure someone could get some use from it."

She began to pick her way back to him between a series of large, dusty trunks on the floor.

"What's down there ?" he asked, pointing to a partition wall with a doorway in it.

"I think that's where the generator is," she said. "The attics used to run the whole length of the house, but they sectioned them off when they started putting in hot water and electricity. What ? " she asked, wondering why this had made him smile.

"I'm just surprised you know that, that's all," he said.

"I took an interest," she said haughtily. "Anyway, there's no-one up here. Let's go back down."


They wound their way back to the floor housing the maids' quarters and then took the back stairs down to the floor below. As they reached the door to the bedroom corridor, Tom reclaimed his jacket and they made to leave the hidden world of the house and return to its bright familiar spaces. They were stopped by a sound from below them; a sort of choked half-cry. Sybil looked at Tom in alarm and they both hung over the iron banisters to see what has happening in the stairwell below. They couldn't see anything, but they heard the sound again.

"Please, sir….."

Whoever it was was female and in trouble. Tom rushed down the stone steps ahead of his wife, brought up short a few flights down by the sight of Larry Grey with his hands either side of a young housemaid, effectively pinning her against the wall. It was obvious that Larry was very drunk.

"What are you doing ?" demanded Tom. "Let her go !"

Larry turned to look at them, seemingly surprised he had been interrupted. The housemaid looked immensely relieved to see Lady Sybil and her husband appear as if from nowhere on the staff stairs.

He grinned at them unsteadily, but made no attempt to move. It quickly became apparent that this was because he couldn't. If he let go of the wall, he would collapse. The housemaid took advantage of his distraction and bobbed under his arm, nodded at Lady Sybil and scurried down the stairs. Her disappearance seemed to startle Larry. He turned slowly and leant against the wall heavily.

"Oh look...Branson…" he muttered, swaying slightly, "and Sybil…darling Sybil….."

Sybil shot him a disgusted look.

"I'm not your darling, Larry. I never was. We'll have to get him over to the bachelor's corridor," she said to her husband, "and put him in one of the empty rooms for the night. He can't go downstairs again in that state."

Tom had been staring at Larry with distaste, but he nodded and grabbed hold of Larry's arm. slinging it over his shoulders and taking hold of his waist. Tom was sturdy, but Larry was taller than him and completely uncoordinated. He listed heavily to the right and tripped up on the first step they took. Sybil automatically slipped to his other side and steadied him, whilst he lifted his other arm sloppily and draped it over her shoulders. Together, she and Tom tried to manoeuvre the uncooperative Larry up the stairs.

He turned his head and looked at Sybil's profile as she concentrated on keeping him upright.

"Beautiful," he muttered under his breath, dragging his arm back to grab her hair at the nape of her neck, pushing drunken fingers haphazardly through her curls. She pulled away irritably, grabbing his hand and repositioning his arm across her shoulder.

"Stop it, Larry. You need to get to bed."

"What's he doing ?" asked Tom, alarmed.

"Nothing," muttered Sybil.

His attention was diverted by Larry leaning on him heavily. They managed to drag him up two steps, Tom supporting virtually all of his weight and Sybil steadying him as he attempted to put one foot in front of the other. She was so intent on not letting him fall that she failed to notice when his hand squirrelled its way over her shoulder and closed over her breast.

"Larry ! Get your hands off me !"

Tom looked across just as she swung round and slapped Larry hard, leaving a livid red mark on his face and sending him reeling backwards. It put Tom off balance, making him stagger and sprawl heavily on the steps with Larry collapsed across him, splayed against the iron bannister. Horrified, Sybil's hand flew to her mouth and she quickly knelt down to make sure Tom was not hurt.

"Oh ! …..Darling, are you alright ?"

"Did he touch you ?" he asked through gritted teeth, struggling out from underneath Larry.

"Never mind that. What are we going to…..'

"Of course I mind if another man forces himself on my wife !" exploded her husband.

There was a gloating cackle.

"Sybil likes a bit of the rough stuff, don't you ?"

Tom launched himself at Larry, grabbing his jacket by the lapels and pulling him up. He stared into his face, breathing hard.

"Tom !" Sybil was alarmed. She had never, ever seen her husband be violent to anyone, but from the look on his face it seemed as if he was about to toss Larry over the banister.

Larry leered at them drunkenly, apparently unconcerned about any fate Tom might have in store for him. She watched her husband struggle with his better nature, exhaling with relief when he eventually threw Larry back down in disgust.

Tom was looking rather bedraggled with his jacket sliding off his shoulder and his hair falling over his eyes. It was sticking up at the back where he'd had hold of Larry's arm.

"We need to get him moved, Tom," she said, trying to focus on the practical. "You'll have to go downstairs and get one of the footmen to help you."

"I'll do no such thing. I'm not leaving you alone with him. You go."

"He can hardly stand, Tom. I'll be alright. Just go downstairs…"

"No."

"Tom…."

"Let's just leave him"

"We can't ! The maids use these stairs all the time !"

Her husband gave her the mulish look that she knew signalled his patience was wearing thin and he was about to become obstinate.

"Why do you want me to go, anyway ? Why can't you go ?"

Without meaning to, her voice rose a notch.

"Because I'm worried he might provoke you into doing something you'll regret !"

"You're the one who just hit him !" exclaimed her husband, eyes wide with disbelief.

Larry's laugh made them turn their heads towards him.

"He's turned you into a fishwife. How perfectly charming."

Sybil grabbed Tom's arm before he could make a move in Larry's direction.

"Why do you always have to be such a pig, Larry ?"

Larry gave a hollow laugh, tried to sit up and slipped down another step and collapsed onto his side, grinning inanely.

Tom sighed, shaking his head.

"Go downstairs and find Alfred, love. I promise I won't touch him."

She nodded, and casting a final dark look at Larry, hurried down the stairs.


Sybil had become such a regular visitor to the kitchen that the staff no longer payed her any attention as she passed them on the final flight of stairs, merely standing aside to let her pass with a smile. As she approached the servants hall, she could hear Mrs Patmore taking charge of the clearing up operation in the kitchen at full volume. Anna caught sight of her before she got to the doorway and rose, making everyone in the servant's hall follow suit.

"What can we do for you, milady ?" she asked as Sybil stepped into the room.

"Please sit down, everybody. I'm sorry to barge in on you," she apologised, "but I was hoping for some help…."

She looked around the table a little shyly; she hated disturbing the servants when they had some respite from the demands of the family. Apart from Mr Bates and Wilkins, her mother's granite-faced ladies maid, there were very few people about; especially no young footmen.

"Lady Sybil ? Is there something I can do for you ?" Mrs Hughes had caught sight of Sybil's dress floating past her sitting room and had come out to investigate.

Sybil folded her hands together in front of her.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes - I believe there is. You see, Mr Grey has been taken rather…ill, and is on the back stairs just below the maids' corridor. Mr Branson is with him. But we need some help to get him to one of the rooms on the bachelor's corridor.."

Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows at Sybil.

"Yes, I heard that Mr Grey was somewhat…..indisposed. Lily ran into him on the way back down here. I've told the maids they are not to use that staircase again tonight. But I wasn't aware that Mr Grey was staying overnight ?"

"He wasn't," said Sybil, "but he can't drive back home as he is. He'll have to sleep it off."

"Can't Lord Merton's chauffeur take him ?" suggested Mr Bates. "He's in the chauffeur's cottage with Mr Pratt. I can go and fetch him, if you'd like ?"

Sybil shook her head.

"Thank you, Bates, but I don't believe he is staying with his family. I'm not sure what his plans were exactly"

Mrs Hughes sighed.

"In that case, I'll have one of the maids make up a room for him then," she said, turning to give instructions to the two housemaids at the other end of the long dining table.

"I was hoping one of the footmen could help Mr Branson get him to a room….."

"I'm afraid they are all otherwise engaged upstairs. Could Albert not help Mr Branson ?" Mrs Hughes indicated an anaemic looking hall boy standing by the piano. Sybil looked at him pensively. He didn't look as if he would be any more use than she had been.

"Otherwise," continued the housekeeper, "I will have to send someone upstairs to ask Mr Carson to spare James or Alfred….."

"I think that might be…."

Sybil was interrupted by the sound of the back door opening and a loud female laugh, followed by several pairs of heavy footsteps echoing on the flags. Rose emerged into the servants hall, along with several members of the band. A strong smell of tobacco smoke accompanied them and Sybil noticed that Rose was grasping the neck of what looked like a bottle of her father's precious Krug '22. Seeing everyone stood up, the party stopped abruptly, still laughing.

"Golly," said Rose, "we didn't expect an audience ! Oh ! Hello, Sybil, what are you doing down here ?"

"I might ask you the same thing !" Sybil replied with annoyance. "Where on earth have you been ?"

Rose looked anything but contrite. She drew herself up and seemed to take offence at being questioned.

"I've been outside talking to Jack and the band."

"She's been quite safe," assured the ridiculously handsome man Sybil had seen earlier.

"You just disappeared ! Mama has been going frantic !"

"We were only talking !"

"Everyone has been searching for you. Papa's looking for you outside right this minute !"

Rose's face fell.

"Oh Lord, is he really ?"

Sybil couldn't help but feel some satisfaction that she was finally beginning to realise that she was in a lot of trouble.

"You'd better go upstairs and find Mama so they know you're safe. We all thought you'd gone off with Larry."

Rose pulled a face.

"Larry Grey ?" she laughed derisively, "Are you kidding ? What on earth makes you think I'd go off with him ?"

Before Sybil could deliver the dressing down she was sorely tempted to give her cousin, Mrs Hughes decided to intervene. It had been a long day, and the last thing she wanted was a full-blown argument between two members of the family in front of the servants.

"Lady Rose, I believe Lady Grantham is in the ballroom."

Rose looked from Mrs Hughes to Sybil and realised that their patience was wearing thin. She gave a small nod of acquiescence, and with a brief word to the bandleader, she hurried up to the salon, pausing only to dispose of the bottle of champagne.

Mrs Hughes and Sybil shared a look that spoke volumes on the subject of troublesome girls.

"Papa will be furious with her."

"I dare say she'll survive his Lordship's fury, milady. You did."

Sybil couldn't help but smile.

"So now, we just need to attend to Mr Grey," said the housekeeper

"I really don't think Albert would be able to move him, even with Mr Branson's help."

"I'll go and find Mr Carson and ask if he can spare Alfred," said Anna, moving from around the table.

"What's the matter with Larry ?" asked a warm American voice. Jack Ross, the band leader, had stepped forward and was regarding them with interest.

"Mr Grey is…indisposed," replied Mrs Hughes.

Jack laughed softly.

"Drunk again, huh ? Larry just can't hold his liquor these days. Where is he ? I'll give you a hand."

Sybil smiled at him gratefully.

"He's with my husband on the back stair. Mr Branson tried to move him but he's just too….." she gave a small, rather hopeless gesture.

"I can imagine," Jack snorted. "Lead the way, Lady Sybil. It will be my pleasure to help."


Sybil ran up the steps as fast as she could, the clatter of her heels echoing up and down the stairwell. Tom leaned over the bannister, looking hopeful when he saw who it was.

"Did you manage to find someone ?"

She stopped to smile at him, which is when he noticed the dark figure behind her.

"Mr Ross has kindly offered to help."

Jack looked up and nodded in greeting.

"Mr Branson."

Tom closed his eyes and sighed with relief.

"Thank God for that."

They found Larry still sprawled against the bannister where Sybil had left him. Jack gave him an unfriendly smile that gave her the feeling that this wasn't the first time they'd been in this position.

"Thank you for coming to help, Mr Ross," said Tom.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Shall we ?"

Between them, they pulled Larry upright and took his weight. His head rolled forward, his chin resting on his chest.

"Come on, Larry, stand up straight," muttered Jack, "you should know the drill by now."

Larry's head rose and he looked at Jack and gave a bitter laugh.

"Look at what I've come to. Carried by a grubby mick and a filthy…."

"Larry !" warned Sybil.

Jack stopped and eyed Larry with contempt.

"If you find us so offensive, Mr Grey, my band and I will take ourselves elsewhere. There are plenty of other clubs in London."

Inebriated though he was, Larry was not so stupid as to lose his main attraction. He made no further comment, but let Tom and Jack manoeuvre him up the stairs to one of the bachelor's bedrooms.

They all but threw him on the bed.

"You need to turn him over." Sybil was undoing Larry's tie and loosening his collar.

"Leave him, Sybil. Let's go back downstairs."

"We can't. If he's sick, he'll choke,"

Tom and Jack shared a look as if to say that neither of them would be very bothered if that happened. But Sybil was insistent, so Tom shook his head and climbed on the bed to push Larry onto his front.

She had found a bowl and a glass of water, which she put by his bed.

"I know he probably deserves it, but he's going to feel very ill in the morning."

"It won't be the first time," said Jack rather heartlessly. "I wouldn't waste your sympathy on him."

She sighed.

"I suppose so."

The three of them turned to look at the prone figure on the bed, already drifting into unconsciousness.

Jack moved first, seeming to shake himself into action.

"I must get back downstairs. I have a job to do."

"Thank you so much, Mr Ross. It was so kind of you to help."

"Not at all, Lady Sybil."

Tom smiled gratefully and extended his hand.

"Yes - thank you. I don't think I could have put up with him for much longer,"

Jack took his hand and grasped it firmly.

"You're welcome," he nodded.

He turned on his heel, pausing as he opened the door.

"Just one thing. Perhaps you have request for us to play ?"

Sybil's eyed brightened immediately.

"Yes ! There is something you could play…..something my husband can't refuse to dance to….."

"Oh yes ?" said Jack, raising a querying eyebrow.

Sybil looked over to Tom and smiled, taking his hand.

"It Had To Be You."


Up next: the end of the night...