A/N I am afaid my muse has had to go for a little lie down, the excitement is all getting a bit much. Now as to rating. To my mind you are going to need a cushion at the very least, or a pillow, or possibly one of those giant floor cushions. My muse has reached into it's little bag of cliff hangers and pulled one out especially for all you lovely people - you know you love em.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented, favourited and generally allowed me to indulge my obsession. I am so grateful for the time and effort you all put in, it makes me a very happy chicken.

Enjoy x


Tom Branson walked into the dingy lodgings he and his wife had taken in Belfast. It was only temporary, that's what he told himself. Money was tight. He had a salary from the newspaper, but they tended to rely on Sybil's earnings from the hospital and her father's meagre allowance. With Michael away in England and Sybil struggling to find work due to her nationality, they felt they could manage to tighten their belts a little.

Today had not been the best day.

"How did it go?" Sybil asked rising from her seat. It was a mute question, she could see from the disappointment on his face.

"They won't talk to me." He said.

"Why ever not? Have you not shown how loyal you are to the cause?" She was outraged on his behalf. He loved that about her. How many times had she stood up for him, to her family, to the black and tans, to anyone who dare treat him with the slightest disrespect? Then she became ever inch Lady Sybil, and he knew she would fight for him to the death if necessary.

So how then could he tell her? How could he explain that the Republicans would not accept him into their ranks, would not allow him to champion their cause in the papers, because he was married to an English woman? Not only that, but an aristocrat. To them he was a traitor already, a spy, his loyalties were not with anti-treaty Ireland, but with a hated enemy he had brought to their land. They had even gone so far as the threaten her. It had been different in Dublin; there they had been surrounded by a close knit group of friends and family and allies. There Sybil was known and respected, it did not matter that her accent was different, she was an asset. Here they were an unknown quantity, and they were not trusted.

"I suppose they feel that because the south abandoned them, then I am part of that." He lied.

"That is utterly ridiculous." She snapped. "You must go back and persuade them, you must never give up."

He sighed sadly and took her hand. "Sometimes you have to know when to walk away. I think we should return south, the hospital will be glad to have you back and perhaps little Michael can come home."

She watched him carefully. "What is it you are not telling me Tom?"

"Nothing." He said quickly, trying to pass her into the tiny sitting room.

"Tom Branson, I know you, and I know when you are lying, mainly because you are really not very good at it, what are you not telling me?"

"I told you, it's nothing. We'll start packing and leave in a day or two. Will you write to your sister?"

It was obvious that he was hiding something, but to push him would be useless. She would bide her time and eventually he would tell her, but in the meantime, she wasn't planning on going anywhere.


"There is a woman arrived who says she is Lady Carlisle." Moseley said conspiratorially as he walked into the kitchen. Mrs Bird was baking, the two maids sat at the kitchen table as Anna taught Sarah the mystery of the invisible stitch.

"As in Sir Richard Carlisle?" Anna asked.

Moseley shrugged. "I suppose so; there can't be that many Carlisles around."

"I wonder if anyone told Lady Mary they had moved back into the area?" Anna mused.

Mrs Bird rolled a piece of pastry viciously. "Well whoever she is, she certainly picked her day to come calling. Lady Mary has been spitting fire today."

"And Mr Matthew was very quiet this morning," Moseley added, "Oh by the way Mrs Bird, he asked me to tell you that he is attending a client in York this afternoon, so may not make it back for dinner."

"Staying out of the way." Mrs Bird said dryly.

"I'm sure whatever has happened they will sort it out soon enough." Anna said.

"I don't know why he puts up with her." Three pairs of eyes turned towards Sarah in complete astonishment. She looked up from her mending.

"Well I don't!" She exclaimed sulkily. "She is absolutely wicked to Mr Matthew, and that's not the only thing, she's untrue too…"

Anna grabbed Sarah by the elbow. "Do you think I might have a word?"

There was no doubting that it wasn't a question as a statement of fact. She ushered the girl out of the door into the garden.

"What do you think you are doing?" Anna hissed. "You cannot say things like that about her ladyship!"

"Why not, it's true; you must know about it, you're her maid." Sarah's tone was bitter and childish. Matthew's rebuke had lain heavy on her. She was embarrassed, frustrated and very angry. Lady Mary did not deserve her husband as far as she was concerned. Sarah knew she would never treat him that way.

"It is not true. Wherever did you get such an idiotic notion? Lady Mary and Mr Matthew are devoted to each other!"

"I heard her, with my own ears. Talking to her sister she was, about somebody called Pamuk!" Sarah folded her arms as if this knowledge explained everything.

Anna closed her eyes for just a moment. She had to try and keep calm, but for someone so long deceased, Mr Pamuk would rather refuse to lie still.

"That is the trouble when you listen at keyholes; you hear nothing of any good. Lady Mary has never and will never be untrue to Mr Matthew, and more importantly, he will never be untrue to her."

Anna waited to see if this piece of advice would have the desired effect, but all it achieved was Sarah's bottom lip extended.

"You would say that, but I know what I heard." She pouted.

"You know what you thought you heard, but believe me, I know the whole story and you couldn't be more wrong. Also, before you start getting any clever ideas, Mr Matthew knows all about it too. I didn't want to have to say this Sarah, but, the whole staff knows you've been making cow eyes at Matthew Crawley. It is ridiculous. He is a married man. He is very kind, and you may have taken that kindness to mean something more, but it doesn't. He is not the sort of man who would get involved with a maid, not matter how much she sighed and simpered at him." Anna had not meant to lose her temper, but the girl was quite impossible.

Tears began to form in Sarah's eyes.

Anna's heart softened. "I know it's hard. He is a very nice man and a good employer. I'm only really saying this for your own good, because if Lady Mary notices, then you will be dismissed and without references."

"I… I…" The girl stammered. The consequences of her actions now seemed very real.

"You're very young Sarah," She put her arm around the girl kindly, "You are also very lucky that Mr Matthew is not the kind of man who would take advantage, you can't say that about all of them."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh no! Do you think he knows?"

Anna gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I wouldn't have thought so. He is not really arrogant enough to imagine he's turned a young girls head."

"But you said everyone knew?"

"Trust me, you are not the first woman to sigh over that gentleman, and he didn't notice then either! One day I will tell you all about it, but for now, do you think you could try to forget Mr Crawley?"

Tears still filling her eyes, Sarah managed to nod.


"Lady Carlisle?"

"Lady Mary."

The two women studied each other critically as Lady Mary pulled the bell cord.

"I know strictly speaking we have not been formally introduced, but given your past association with my husband, I thought that for once I would hang convention and make my own introductions." Cecily Carlisle smiled as she looked around the room and took of her gloves.

"Indeed." Mary said. The word had icicles. "Moseley, could you arrange for some tea for me and my… guest."

The butler, having only just arrived gratefully scuttled away again.

Mary took a seat and indicated that the other woman should do the same.

"So how do you like Yorkshire?" Mary said, in her best hostess voice. So this was the woman Richard had married. Of course Granny and Aunt Rosamund had been beside themselves to find out who she was, but no-one seemed to know her in their society. She obviously had a liking for the new fashions in powder and paint, her mouth was a perfect cherry red cupid's bow, her face was framed by a shingle bobbed haircut. Clearly Richard had not been consulted in that area.

It was something that would not go down well with Matthew, he had been opinionated enough when she'd suggested having a boy's haircut herself, she could imagine what he'd say if she also started painting her face so obviously.

"Oh it's divine after the heat of town. Do you get into the city very often?"

They were being crushingly polite. Cecily was also making her own observations on her husband's former fiancée. She was not as chic and modern as Cecily had imagined, she still favoured the long hair and fresh faced look. However, she had caught her by surprise and, even so, reluctantly had to concede that Lady Mary was a natural beauty. Cecily herself had made sure to dress with extra care today, her makeup carefully applied, her hair dressed just so.

"Not often no. There was a time that I loved to hear the click of my heels on the pavement, but now, with the children…"

"Ah yes, you have just the two, twins I believe?"

"You have done your research."

The two stared at each other for a few moments, each being unwilling to break the stalemate.

"It is my business to know people." Lady Carlisle said with a slight edge to her tone. "Daddy was in newspapers."

She let the information sink in, watching her hostess carefully.

The dull ache in her head was making Mary even more irritable, if that was possible, and the believed she could see where this conversation was going.

"I don't wish to appear rude Lady Carlisle, but what is it you want?" She said sharply.

Cecily smiled. She was beginning to see now how this woman had bested Richard.

"Simply for us to be acquainted." She replied innocently.

"I fail to see how that would be of any advantage to you… and your newspapers. I am simply the wife of a country solicitor, nothing of any great interest to you there."

"And the daughter of an earl, and if I may say so, you do have a very interesting past."

Moseley appeared with a tray, allowing Lady Mary time to consider her guest.

Once they were again alone, Mary made a great play of pouring the tea; it was all she could do to resist pouring the whole pot over the ridiculous creature's coiffured head.

"Lady Carlisle…" Mary began, looking her in the eye.

"Cecily… please." The red lips had turned into a smile.

"Lady Carlisle," Mary said again, even more peaked that the woman had interrupted her. The tone could not be misunderstood. "I hope you do not mean to come into my home and threaten me or my family. I believe you may find that any ammunition you think you have has, in fact, become rather old and extremely tedious."

There was something in Lady Carlisle's eyes that Mary certainly had not expected to see. It was almost as if her masked threat had been expected to fail.

"No indeed Lady Mary." Cecily looked away for just a moment, before apparently steeling herself. "What I actually wanted… was your help."