Edited because it really was too short for my taste and I think it needed more! Thanks again to readers for your patience, for reviewing, and following! - darthsydious
After the funeral, Edith moved herself back to her estate, despite her family's insistence that she was no bother.
"I know I'm not." Edith said to her father as he helped her up to the door, "But I don't think it's fitting for me to come back to Downton. Not permanently."
"I wish you would stay, at least until after the baby is born." He said. Edith smiled,
"You mustn't worry terribly, I'll visit until the doctor says otherwise, and Mary has promised to pop in."
"I am glad she decided to stay after all."
"Only until January."
"It's longer than I expected her to." He glanced at her, smiling a little. "I am pleased the two of you patched things up."
"It didn't seem to matter anymore." Edith shrugged, a hand absently going to her belly. "I am ashamed of my attitude these past years Papa, and I apologize if we- if I made things difficult." He squeezed her arm
"You never did, dear, and perhaps we could have been a little easier on all of you." And Edith smiled her thanks. "How do you think Matthew and Sybil are getting on?" he asked. She paused in the foyer, pursed her lips a moment, frowning.
"I couldn't really say. They've only been home for a few weeks now. I suppose they're happy."
"Hm. Well I suppose we'll just have to wait and see." He said
"Yes indeed." She murmured. "I'd ask you to tea, but I know how busy Downton is this time of day." Edith said and rose on tip-toe to press his cheek, cradling her belly as she did so. "Tell Mama I'm resting, so she won't worry."
"I will."
~O~
Village of Downton, a certain shop…
Matthew rolled his sleeve down over the contraption, the material catching.
"Move your arm, try it out a little." The man said. Sybil showed him, and he winced in pain, the metal pinching his skin. His lame arm was especially sore; he was being fitted for a prosthetic arm, a ridiculous contraption that he loathed as soon as he saw it.
"It hurts." He grumbled.
"Stop fussing." She said, "No I don't think this one will do. Isn't there anything that's more flexible?"
"This is what we have; this is what we can spare. If you don't want it, then another soldier will take it."
"Then they can bloody-well have it." Matthew said, shrugging out of his jacket. "I certainly don't need it. I can function perfectly well without it." Sybil undid the straps over his shoulder and took it off his arm, he sighed with some relief. "Besides it pinches." He rotated his bad arm, holding his shoulder with his good hand. "Why's it so heavy?" Sybil glanced between him and the man, handing him back the wooden arm.
"Some don't mind the pinching." The man said, miffed.
"Thank you." Sybil said, as Matthew put his hat on and she helped him into his jacket. The man grumbled in response as they left the shop, the bell above the door jingling merrily.
"For future reference, if I decide again that one of those things might be useful, please remind me of this experience." He said as they made their way back to Downton on foot. She laughed a little.
"I've seen men without legs that whined less than you!" she said,
"It hurt!"
"I'm sorry." She sobered; "You didn't do that for me did you?" he shrugged.
"Perhaps a little bit. I thought it'd make some things easier, holding things I expect. What's the use though if it causes more pain?" she 'hummed' in response. "Let's go around through the field." he said, pointing down the worn path the workers took. "I want to see what they've done with the barns on the Brinkley's farm. Can they spare you?"
"For a little while." Sybil said, "Besides I think it's important we have our walks." Matthew shrugged and so they took the path through the fields, watching the farmers herd the sheep.
"How is Edith? Did she get home alright?" he asked, halfway home.
"I expect so. Papa should be home soon."
"When is she due again?"
"Late December, or early January. Depending on if it comes on time." From where they walked, they could see a man in uniform on a bicycle, a bag over his shoulder down on the main road, he was just turning down the driveway to Downton. "The post is here!" she said, and took his hand, hurrying up the path.
"What are you rushing for? Expecting a parcel?"
"We might have word of William!" she said, and tugged impatiently at his hand. They caught up with the postman just as he finished sorting through the pockets of the bag for Downton's mail.
"I'll take it." Sybil said as he pulled out a stack of letters. "Thank you." The man muttered his reply before mounting his bicycle and starting back down the long drive.
"It will be for your father." Matthew said, reading over her shoulder, "Probably from the doctor, what was his name?"
"Critchards…" she said, "We haven't heard from him in weeks, not since just before the wedding…about his condition-" her fingers deftly flicked through the stack meant for her parents, "I wish we'd…get word-" Matthew stopped her, turning a letter back, he took it from the pile, "What-" they both looked at the address.
"Wicklow, Ireland"
They both looked at eachother, then back at the black-framed envelope.
"It's addressed to you." He said, and took the stack from her hands. Taking the letter from him, she held it a moment, her expression confused, memories and fears rushing back. "Would you like me to go?" he asked.
"No. No look and see if the Doctor wrote to Papa." She said, opening her letter. Matthew turned to the side, giving her a little privacy as he took up where she left off, almost half-way through the letters. He gave his full attention to the addresses, deciding she was good enough to let him and Mary alone so they could sort themselves out. It was the least he could do for her and probably all that remained of Tom Branson. His shock was evident then, when he found a letter for Lord Grantham from a Doctor Critchards, stationed in Verdun.
"Sybil!" he exclaimed, turning to show her. She looked up from the letter, her eyes red.
"Tom's dead." She murmured.
"Sybil…Sybil I'm sorry." He reached for her, but she was folding up the letter, putting it in her pocket.
"You said the doctor wrote to papa?" she wiped her eyes with her apron. "We should go and tell him."
"Do you want a moment?"
"Not right now." She said, "William is alive, somewhere, and hopefully on his way. He is our first concern." She started inside when she suddenly turned around. "Do I look as if I've been crying?"
"Only a little." He said, she nodded and this time, held out her hand to him, letting him lead the way inside.
Library
"Well, that is a relief, I must say." Robert said, folding the letter,
"Is William alright? Is he coming home?" Sybil asked
"Yes, he'll be home in a few weeks time now, there was some delay, getting him out of France, and travel is slow, especially for his condition. But the doctor is pleased enough that he's recovering."
"Does he say if William will ever be sent back?" Robert shook his head
"No, nothing of that sort yet. He's to be safely home for a little while, that is what we shall hope for." He said, and reached for the pull.
"If you don't need me for now, I'll just go upstairs; rest my eyes for a moment." Sybil said. And Robert nodded.
"Is she alright?" he asked Matthew,
"She had a letter today. Distressing news I'm afraid."
"Seemed to take it well."
"Can't say yet." Matthew shrugged. "I'll see to her."
Up in her old room, Sybil sat on the bench at the end of her bed, the letter beside her. The door opened and closed, and in a moment, she felt Matthew press a gentle kiss to her head.
"I'm sorry about Tom." He said. After a moment she began to cry, he knelt and took one of her hands.
"I'm sorry," she said in-between her tears, "I'm sorry to be like this."
"Sybil you loved him." He said quietly, "Please don't apologize for that." He moved to sit beside her, "Not after all the fuss you put up with when Mary came home."
"Read it, I don't mind." She said, digging through her pocket for a handkerchief.
"Here." He gave her his before taking the letter. It was from a minister in Wicklow. Tom's last request had been that he be buried in the town he was born in, and that Sybil be written to when his remains were at peace. Having wiped her eyes, she looked at his kerchief, fiddling with the linen, edged in blue with his initials embroidered in the corner.
"Do you think…someday we could go and lay flowers on his grave?" she looked up finally, to find he was looking back at her.
"Yes I think we could." He said. "If they can spare you, we have time before William comes home." She smiled a little then.
"They'll always need me." She said. "But I don't want to put you out or-"
"You won't." he said. "I was able to make my peace with Mary. You and Branson ought to have the same rights." She took his good hand then, squeezing.
"Thank you." She said. "And…I'm sorry…about our honeymoon." He shrugged,
"We had a whole week. Besides it's a perfect excuse to go to Ireland."
"Papa won't accept that we're going to Ireland to have the rest of our honeymoon." Sybil said, raising an eyebrow.
"We don't have to tell them where we're going." He said. "Just that we'll be back in time for William's arrival."
~O~
Monday Morning…
Their trunks packed and already sent ahead of them to the train, Matthew and Sybil kissed Mary goodbye.
"I am glad you told one of us." She said, "And don't worry about Mama and Papa. They won't hear anything from me."
"Thank you." Sybil said, and Mary squeezed her hand.
"Here," she said, and gave her a five pound note. "It's from Anna and Bates, they thought someone from downstairs ought to send their regards along with the two of you. It's enough for a wreathe." Matthew made to protest, but Mary held up her hands. "I had to tell someone from downstairs." She said. "And Anna is trustworthy." Sybil nodded, pocketing the money for safekeeping.
"Edith may know, if you must tell her, we don't mind her knowing." Sybil said. "Only if you must write to us, don't mail anything from the house if you can."
"Yes I know." Mary said, "Go now, the two of you, before you miss the train."
"Train's always late, it's Downton." Matthew said, but pressed her cheek goodbye. "Take care Mary." She kissed her sister, waving them off,
"I'll see to everything." She said. "Best of luck Sybil."
Mary decided she would tell Edith after all. She didn't have very much news to speak of otherwise, and she did want to try and keep her promise to visit regularly. So that afternoon at tea, she told her sister in confidence where Matthew and Sybil were heading.
"They haven't told anyone they were going away at all?" Edith asked, "My, if not for the fact that it's for poor Branson, I'd say it was terribly romantic." Mary quirked an eyebrow.
"They said they would call the big house when they were at the train station so mama wouldn't worry. But it must be between us, and Anna and Bates I suppose. We're the only four who really needed to know."
"Mama won't hear of it from me." Edith said. A servant came in, clearing his throat.
"Beg pardon Lady Strallen, but the horsehair chaise-"
"With the rest of the furniture in the attic, tag it to be sold, it was on the list." Edith said with a wave of her hand, "We cannot keep everything." Mary glanced between her sister and the servant, who quickly bowed and left.
"I saw the dust covers over some things in the small parlour as I came in. Are you going to London?" Mary asked,
"No," Edith took the handle of her cup, gently blowing on the steaming tea "It seems Anthony's brother is coming to claim his inheritance," she lifted her eyes up to look around the room, "The house of course. It's his right."
"He's taking your home?" Mary was horrified "In your condition!"
"It's his right." Edith repeated. "He says I am welcome of course, for as long as I need until I find a home of my own."
"Does Papa know?" Mary asked
"Not yet." Edith said. "Papa has enough troubles without having to worry about me."
"Edith you must tell him! There may be something he can do." She shook her head,
"Mary it's the law, it is a matter of family, blood relations claiming what was rightfully willed to him."
"Well he sounds like a cad." Mary sniffed, "Taking a home from his pregnant sister-in-law, it's really too awful."
"He isn't really." Edith said with a shrug. "He's very nice, and I get along with his wife quite well."
"I'm sure Mama will want them to dinner." Mary said. "But I think we ought to go back to Downton, and you must tell Papa."
"Oh must we?" Edith asked
"Edith!" Mary said, she'd already stood, putting on her gloves "You're to be homeless in a matter of days save for the good graces of some…person who decides to just waltz in and take your home, all of your things, the life you built with your husband! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"He did say I could stay until-"
"Until you find your own home." Mary said, "That means they'd rather you left. To be blunt they're just shuffling you out, along with all of Anthony's furniture!" Edith gave a great sigh, set her cup down, and took the bell that was near the service. Ringing it, they waited a moment for the butler to hurry in.
"Samson, will you please fetch Helen, and have her bring my driving coat and hat."
"My Lady, I don't-"
"I won't be driving," Edith assured him, "Lady Mary will be, but I am going out." The butler hesitated for only a moment, recalling the Doctor's instructions to the staff not to let Lady Edith do very much at all over the next few months. "Now please Samson." She said, Lady Mary was giving her arm to her sister, helping her out of the chair.
"Yes your ladyship."
~O~
That Night…
"Edith of course you must come home!" Cora said, "We'll send over a few of the servants immediately to fetch your things."
"It isn't so simple as that." Edith said "What about the baby?"
"I believe we've had a few in the house from time to time." Robert said, "Edith I do wish you'd told us sooner! Good heavens what a secret to carry!" he put his hands behind his back, standing between the sofas in the parlor, eyeing the group before him. "Edith will come home straightaway, spare yourself the humiliation of being booted out as they're moving in. And I want no more said about this. My mind is quite made up."
"Yes but mine isn't." Edith said, everyone looked at her, a little surprised. "I am a grown woman after all. I simply feel that I- I don't know, I hate to have to come home again, after all this."
"Darling what option do you have?" Cora asked, "It will be much better to come home to your family than stay there, feeling even more a burden to people you hardly know."
"I suppose." Edith murmured.
"I know it feels like a step back." Robert said, "But I dislike the idea of you feeling indebted to anyone who feels the need to tell family they are always welcome until they aren't. It smacks of bad taste." Violet, who'd been silent the whole time, finally spoke up.
"Edith may always come and stay with me." Everyone looked up then. "A convalescence home is no place for a baby, and my house is perfectly serviceable. Besides your two servants already have a baby in Downton, good heavens between the two of them no one would have any sleep."
"What do you think Edith?" Mary asked, knowing she most likely felt as if she wasn't really being consulted in any of it, despite being the topic of conversation. Edith glanced from her parents to her grandmother.
"Well…Granny's house is very quiet, and…I do think it would be best. I don't want anyone put out, the staff in Downton is stretched as it is, and Granny is right, Anna and Bates do have a child, whatever they decide, if they leave service or even if they stay, it will mean more work for everyone." No one wanted to suggest they ask the Bates' to leave service.
"Then it is settled." Violet said. "Edith will move in with me. I'll arrange for my staff to begin moving you immediately." Carson appeared, announcing dinner, they stood, following Cora into the dining room, Robert hung back a moment with his mother
"That was good of you Mama." He said quietly,
"A grandmother is always allowed favourites." She said and nodded to Carson for holding the door for her.
"Did Matthew and Sybil call?" Mary asked as they spread their napkins.
"Yes, sometime after breakfast, they said they would be going away for the week, back on Saturday. Why?"
"Just wondering." Mary said with a shrug.
"It seems very rushed." Violet said. "No notice, just a telephone call."
"I'm glad they were able to go away." Edith said, "I didn't like the idea of them having to miss their trip just because of me."
"I don't see why they had to go so suddenly." Cora said, "I hope one of them isn't ill."
"No of course not- why would they be ill?" Violet asked.
"Where did they go?" Robert asked "Did anyone hear them say where they were going? Not back to London I hope, the house has been shut up since they left."
"I think they went to Brighton." Mary said nonchalantly, Carson came round with the soup tureen, and she sat back a little, giving him room.
"Isn't Lady Scribbons in Brighton this time of year?" Violet asked, "I must write to her, and see if she'll have them for dinner." both Mary and Edith exchanged worried glances
"On their honeymoon?" Cora asked, frowning.
"It isn't really their honeymoon, they had a week in London." Violet said, "And they need connections."
"Cora is right." Robert said, after a moment. "Let's let them be. If they left so suddenly, then it must mean they want to be left alone. A wish I intend to fulfill. After all they need this time together. I don't want to hear of anyone writing to anybody in Brighton while they're away." Mary and Edith exchanged secretive smiles, but nodded that they would do as he asked, and not write to anyone in Brighton.
~O~
Saint Kevin's Cemetery - Glendalough, County Wicklow, Ireland
Crossing a simple wooden bridge, Matthew carried a wreath he and Sybil had bought with the money Anna and Bates had sent along with them, as well as a small bouquet of lilies. Holding onto his elbow, she scanned the tombstones, most of them falling over with age, sunk into the earth decades ago.
"There." Matthew pointed to a newer stone, standing out from the others. Making their way through the untrimmed grass, they came to stand before Tom Branson's resting place.
Here Lies Tom Branson
Born 1890 – Died 1916
Laying the wreath against the stone, Matthew stepped back and removed his hat, letting her set her flowers at the foot of the stone. Straightening, she stood beside him, folding her hands before her. She bowed her head, quietly praying. Minutes passed, a cool breeze passed through the cemetery, already the trees had shed their fall colours and leaves. The scraggly shrubs in the graveyard were in need of trimming. It was not a pretty place, it wasn't looked after, and it seemed forgotten. Matthew remembered the town seemed poor as they passed through it. He wondered what sort of life the late Tom Branson led here. Was he happy, growing up in a tiny village like this? His mother's tombstone was beside his, he did not succeed her by many years, seven at the most. Matthew found himself thinking of his own dear mother. She was far off in France, happily playing the part of Florence Nightingale. He missed her dearly, and wished she would come home. He looked over at Sybil just as she opened her eyes. She gave a small sigh, as if greatly relieved.
"Thank you." She said softly. He squeezed her fingers lightly. "I know he can't hear me anymore and that we did part bitterly, but…I think he knew I would come. That I would forgive him." Matthew smiled a little.
"Do you ever wish you went with him to Ireland?" he asked. She was quiet for a moment.
"Sometimes I wonder what might've happened if I did." She shrugged "To answer…no…I still believe I made the right choice in staying. I wasn't ready to go so far away. I suppose he saw that, and didn't push. I was angrier he didn't try harder to understand me, or even try fighting for me." Matthew smiled at that
"And to think Mary thought I pushed her too much."
"You didn't…not really anyway."
"I did in some ways." He said. "Like everyone else I got impatient, and upset with her."
"Do you ever wish she'd said yes?" Sybil asked. He was quiet for a while.
"Sometimes." He said, and Sybil despite a small pang of jealousy, couldn't fault him for being honest. "Sometimes I wish she could've just looked at her feelings and our relationship for what they were." He shrugged "But seeing who she's become over these years, I can see that marrying would've hindered her, rather than helped." Sybil nodded
"She seems more like herself than she has in years." She said. "Only she's surer of herself and what she's doing." They started back toward the village, through the tall grass.
"It isn't such a bad little town." He said, "It is rather pleasant." She nodded, agreeing. "We ought to come back here again next year." He said after a moment. "That way you can put more flowers on his grave." she looked up at him, surprised.
"You…you wouldn't mind that?"
"No of course not." He said, "Goodness, Sybil, you'd let me do the same thing if Mary died." He shrugged. "Besides I like telling everyone we're in Brighton when we're really off on our own here." She moved closer to him, resting her head against him.
"So do I." she said. He bent, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth. Arm in arm, they walked back into the village, Sybil's mind at peace.
As she lay beside him that night, Sybil thought briefly of Branson. She used to worry that she still loved Tom, that he might come home and be angry with her for marrying Matthew. But as she watched her husband sleep, Sybil asked herself if she loved Tom Branson. She did. Rather, she did and she didn't. He was her first love after all, one simply doesn't forget them. Perhaps it was the war that changed her, perhaps it was being married. People did change, for the better or worse. Whatever love she had for Tom, it was still there, but…it just didn't seem to matter as much. He was gone now, and she had a whole life with Matthew to think of. How could she be selfish and compare her life now with what it might have been with Branson? She owed it to Matthew, and to herself, to make the most of her marriage. Leaning over Matthew, she kissed him gently. He blinked a few times, and then opened his eyes.
"Sybil?" he mumbled sleepily "What is it?"
"Nothing." She said softly, a small smile. "I'm only glad you're here." Matthew had seen that smile before…he recalled it back in London, on their honeymoon.
"So am I." he said, and when she kissed him again, he responded as any husband properly should.