Changing Times
By the spring of 1931 it had become obvious there would be no quick economic recovery from the blanket of economic depression. Wages were dropping and Tom had taken a pay cut a year previously and a second one when the Tory's again became the government in power. As prices soared and wages dropped the two sisters living in the housekeeper's quarters had become a godsend to Sybil. The women were used to living on a budget and had planted vegetables in every existing space in the back garden the previous summer. As Rose's job at the bakeshop dwindled and was finally lost when the shop closed its doors Rose had taken over more and more of the cooking and baking. She now did the family shopping as well and had a keen eye for a bargain. Sybil strongly suspected they were eating and faring much better than many other households along the same street.
At the hospital where Sybil worked there were constantly notices up on the boards for Interns and nurses looking for lodging. One day Sybil had spoken to two fellow co-workers who mentioned the difficulty they were having finding a place to stay. When she returned home, she took a note book and pen and did a survey of the servants' quarters that had not been used in the twelve years she and Tom had lived there except for the few times her mother had come to stay and brought her maids with her. Other than some fresh paint, a good cleaning and fresh linens the rooms were in good order. Her father had put in a servant's washroom with running water before the Great War. She decided to talk to Tom about renting some of the rooms that evening.
"Tom, I had a note today from Edith," she began. "They would like the children to come to Yorkshire to stay with them this summer. Riordan could have a summer job working on Anthony's estate."
"A job doing what?" Tom inquired.
Sir Anthony and Edith had given up the majority of their household staff and were down to a cook and a maid. Luckily for them Sir Anthony had listened to Tom's advice and diversified his funds among banks. He had suffered some losses but the farm was still faring well.
"Working on the farm. You know whatever Riordan does Jay will be right behind him."
"I've been wondering about what to do with them over the summer. They're getting too old to hang around London without something productive to occupy their time. It would probably be good for them and we can go up on weekends. What about Merilee."
"Mama will probably have her practicing her manners and pouring tea," Sybil said with a laugh. "You know what a tomboy she is. It might do her some good."
"There is nothing wrong with her manners," Tom said in defense of his Daddy's girl. "Then again it would give us more time on our own without the children here." He pulled Sybil into his lap in the armchair where he was sitting and started nuzzling her neck.
"Is that all you ever think about?" Sybil said with a slight laugh.
"When your in the room, yes," he replied before he began tickling her.
Sybil shrieked in laughter before she jumped up.
"There was something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"Come back and sit on my lap. I promise I'll listen," Tom said grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards him. Sybil curled up on his lap and he immediately started fiddling with the buttons on her dress.
"I was thinking about opening up more rooms in the house," she said.
"Sybil, things are already tight. With Marjory and Rose here, I don't know how much more we can afford," Tom said. He had stopped trying to seduce her and was looking her in the face.
"I know that. That is why I need you to listen. I'm thinking of letting out some of the old servants' quarters to some of the Interns at the hospital. There is a shortage of affordable accommodation. We could open the morning room as a study room. We use the drawing room for entertaining and holidays anyway. Rose needs a job. She hasn't had any luck finding one and the children are getting older. I don't know how much longer we'll need Marjory. Riordan is more independent now and it won't be long before Jay and Merilee are as well. I looked the rooms over and other than some paint or maybe wall paper they just need cleaning."
Tom thought it over for a minute.
"Your sure you want to do this? It would mean a house full of people."
"I was thinking about when Rory lived with us during his residency. He was so busy with his studies he was hardly here. He came back to get cleaned up, eat and sleep. Otherwise he was at the hospital. We saw more of him because he was family. If we had two or three of the residents from the hospital stay here it would cover more of the costs of running the house and we could do a few repairs we've been putting off."
"I suppose I get to do the painting?"
"You agree then?"
"Yes," he said moving in to kiss her again and slipping his hand under the hem of her skirt.
"We should go talk to Marjory and Rose" Sybil said against his lips with a smile.
"Later," was all Tom said as he finished unbuttoning her dress.
Marjory and Rose had jumped on the idea of fixing up the lower rooms. They had both been worried about what they were going to do once the Branson's children were a bit older and Marjory was no longer needed. With the job shortage their prospects weren't good. They had gone through the rooms with Sybil and Tom and had quite a few suggestions on fixing the rooms up to make them homier so that Sybil would be able to charge a higher rate.
"I had almost forgotten how sterile these rooms are," Tom commented. "My room at the first house I worked at in Ireland reminded me more of a monk's cell than a bedroom. It was freezing."
Tom's working class roots had surprised both sisters. It made them more determined than ever to make over the old servants' quarters into a money earning enterprise. Once the women started discussing curtains and decorations Tom retreated back upstairs. The three women headed up to the attics to see what could be salvaged from the discarded furnishings on hand. By the time Tom and Sybil took the children up to Yorkshire for the summer, the first two lodgers were installed in the downstairs rooms and work was well underway to fix up another two rooms.
Tom's eyes had almost popped out of his head when he had seen the first two rooms Marjory and Rose had redone. They hadn't let him help with the painting and Rose had declared that paint and wallpaper in the local shops was much too expensive. She had purchased the supplies on a visit to the outskirts of London to visit one of their relatives. The walls were freshly painted and paper had been applied to the top of the walls. Painted boards ran around each room to as a chair rail and other molding had been applied to create the look of panels. The bed frames, dressers and nightstands were freshly painted. Curtains and comforters from the chests in the attic had been re-made for each room. The floors had been scrubbed and freshly waxed and covered with a bedside rug. Each room had an armchair Rose had managed to find second hand and recovered with fabric from old draperies. Rose who Sybil had come to realize was rather a tight wad had haggled the poor man selling the chairs down to less than half of what he had been originally asking.
Sybil had promised to go through the attics at the Dower House and see what she could find that may be of use. She had been flabbergasted by the variety of ideas the women had for using the discarded items they had found in the trunks in the attic. The last she had seen they were busy making hand made rugs for the next two rooms from old clothes.
Sybil's parents had asked everyone for a family dinner when they arrived in Yorkshire to drop off the children. Sybil and Tom would be returning to London in two days time. Matthew had allowed Mary to move back with him seven months after she had returned to Downton but she was still on a tight leash. Matthew was still busy with work, but like everyone his income was substantially less than before the crash. They were able to keep their cook, but they had to make do with a cleaning woman once a week that came in to do the laundry and heavy cleaning. Mary had balked a bit at first, but had learned to do some simple chores around the house and was gradually accepting the change in family circumstances.
Lord Grantham had fared the crash reasonably well and had been sitting on his remaining assets after Tom's warning in the summer of 1929. He could not afford to loose anymore than he already had. He had exchanged some of the farmland from the estate for his remaining debts. The income from the property rentals provided a sufficient living that he and Lady Cora were living comfortably.
"It is very commendable you've found a way to use the house to create employment," Lord Grantham commented at dinner. He had a slight slackness to one side of his mouth from his stroke but was otherwise unaffected.
"I must say taking in lodgers doesn't sound very palatable," Edith commented.
"We're only accepting Interns and Resident doctors," Sybil replied. "They are so busy with their studies they aren't much trouble. We're only converting the old servants' rooms. I don't know how many lodgers we will take yet, probably not more than six. There is still plenty of room for the family to visit upstairs."
"It does seem you've thought this through well," Matthew said.
"There are a number of houses in our area being converted into apartments," Tom commented. "They're really quite ghastly."
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him. He had commented often enough on his dislike of oversized homes.
"What? I like our house. I'm getting soft in my old age," he said. "I like coming home to a warm house and a comfortable armchair."
Everyone tittered before they went back to their meal. Before they were through Sir Anthony had offered Sybil to look through the attics at his residence for anything she could use as well.
"My first wife Maude was forever changing something," he said. "You might find a few things you can use."
"You might as well take a look at Crawley House as well," Mary volunteered. "I've never been up to the attic. I doubt anyone has in years."
By the end of the weekend Sybil had a large enough pile of boxes, chairs and side tables to take back to London with her Tom complained it would take him two trips to get it all from the station to the house.
"Don't be such a baby," she teased him. "You like your warm house don't you?"
"I like you in my warm bed better," he whispered in her ear.
"Tom Branson, what's got into you this last while," Sybil said with a laugh.
"Age."
"Forty-one is not old. You still look the same to me as the day I met you."
"Then you need glasses."
Sybil stood back and regarded her husband. There were a few white hairs beginning to show here and there. His hair was starting to thin and there were a few more lines around his eyes, but to her he looked exactly the same.
"No," she said slowly. "My rose colored ones suit me just fine."
