Surprise! After abandoning this story for so long I've finally got my groove back so in case you missed it, I posted another new chapter just a week ago. Thanks as always for the reviews - it's always wonderful and encouraging to hear from those of you who are enjoying this story.


The lounge was less than half full so Tom easily found a seat away from anyone else where he could rest his head against the cabin wall while having plenty of room to stretch out his legs. The lights of the cabin had been dimmed so that those sitting in here could sleep and some of his fellow passengers appeared already asleep while others talked in soft voices that matched the muted lighting. Leaning his head against the wall he looked out the big picture window at the blackness outside. From here, the sky no longer seemed covered in stars as it had when he stood on the outside deck but he was still able to see a few stars twinkling in the distance. He wasn't really sleepy as he had only come in to escape the darkness and ensuing cold of the sea air so he wasn't even aware of falling asleep but the gentle rocking of the ship lulled him into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

He woke with a start, startled by some sounds that in his sleepy state he couldn't quite identify. Looking out the window he was surprised to find the sky was no longer an inky blackness broken here and there by twinkling stars. Instead the inkiness had lightened to a steely blue with streaks of pinks and yellows attesting to the sun that was fast rising behind the ship. The sharp squawking of several sea gulls hovering around the ship solved the mystery of what had woken him but more importantly let him know the ship was close to its destination.

He looked around to see if anyone was preparing for the ship's docking but it seemed most of the other passengers that had also sought the comfort of the lounge rather than spending money on their own personal cabins were just now also awaking. Tom stiffened as he spied a group of British soldiers isolated from the rest of the passengers in the far corner of the room from where he was sitting. He, like his fellow passengers, at least those he surmised were Irish which seemed to be the majority, quickly turned his sight away from them.

Upon see the soldiers he was gripped by a sudden burst of uneasiness. It was a strange sensation since he had been among British soldiers so much during the war, ferrying them from the railway station to the hospital or the Abbey, moving their beds or furniture in the convalescent home the Abbey had become, fixing their broken wheelchairs, and he had never felt uneasy among them. He had sometimes felt sorrow or pity for the gravely injured and sometimes resentment and disapproval of the more arrogant officers recuperating in the luxury of the Abbey but he had never felt uneasy.

But that had been a different sort of war.

You don't know what it's like here now with British soldiers and even worse the Black and Tans everywhere. The words of his mother's letter now flowed through his head. This letter was the second one to come from his mother in response to his and Sybil's plans. In her first letter, which he and Sybil had anxiously awaited, she had called them foolish yet had consented to Sybil staying with her until the wedding.

However, her second letter was much different than her first one and Tom hadn't shared it with Sybil. As the years had passed and he admitted to himself that he had fallen in love, he had hinted of his friendship with a local girl in his letters home but had never actually written about his feelings for her nor had he named her as the Earl's youngest daughter. Yet he always thought that his mother had seen through his words for she had warned him to be careful in his dealings with his employer's family, that his job hinged on his behavior. This second letter only confirmed his suspicions as she expressed she wasn't surprised that Tom was in love but was surprised that the Lady Sybil returned his affections.

I long to see you again my beloved son and am anxious to meet the woman who has captured your heart. I am sure she is a lovely person – how could she not be for I know you could only love someone who is kind and caring, intelligent and curious about the world around them - but I'm not sure how accepted she will be here simply because she is English.

Although Mam had written that she would accept Sybil and so would those living in her house she couldn't vouch that the rest of his family or neighbors would do so. You don't realize how much the Black and Tans are hated here for the atrocities they are inflicting on ordinary people like us. I'm afraid that hatred could be transferred to your Sybil.

His mother had gone on to implore him to reconsider his plans. As much as I miss you and long to wrap my arms around you, to talk endlessly into the night with you, I beg you to reconsider your plans. If you can't give her up then maybe you should find a place in England that might be more hospitable to a pair like you two.

Maybe there was one good thing about Sybil not making the journey with him he thought. He'd have some time to prepare his family for her presence, to let them know she sided with freedom for Ireland. And he'd remind them of Maud Gonne and Countess Markievicz both of whom were British born.

The British soldiers had become rather loud much to the consternation of the other passengers especially those who were still trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep. Tom longed for a cup of hot tea but thought he'd wait until the ferry docked and then find a place in town to get tea and maybe a scone or a thick slice of soda bread. Or maybe he'd just wait until he reached his mother's house for surely she'd lay out a fine breakfast spread to welcome him home especially since she still thought Sybil would be with him.

Tom took his two battered suitcases and went out on deck to await their arrival at the port of Kingstown. As soon as he stepped out on the deck he was hit with a blast of chilly sea air causing him to pause and button up his suit jacket and wish that he had on a warmer jumper underneath rather than a plain cotton shirt. Yet as he rounded the corner he found it much warmer thanks to the cabin walls of the lounge blocking much of the wind. While still wearing his precious leather bag strapped over his shoulder he set his two suitcases on the deck. The streaks of pinks and yellows that had earlier filled the sky had been replaced by a light blue sky. A few dark and ominous clouds loomed over the far distant mountains but here over the sea the sky was clear.

Tom spotted a few fishing boats bobbing around in the fairly calm water. During his last trip home he had been met with blinding rain after enduring a churning sea all night with a gale wind blowing. He smiled thinking maybe the calm waters sparkling in the sunshine was a promising omen for his new life.

From his spot on this upper deck, Tom looked out at the sparse waiting crowd on the pier hoping to see a familiar face. But it was quite a trip from his mother's house to Kingstown and he didn't really expect to find one of his brothers waiting for him. Realizing passengers were beginning to disembark, Tom picked up his suitcases and made his way to the gangway. As he walked down the gangway he was surprised by the number of uniformed soldiers who were stationed around the pier carefully observing the disembarking passengers.

As he headed for the railway station, Tom was surprised to hear a voice calling "Tom … Tom." He looked in the direction of the voice but not really expecting to be the Tom they were seeking.

"Have ya been gone so long ya not remembered my face or voice?"

Spotting his cousin Odhran, Tom's face broke out in a big grin. "It's been far too long but I'd never forget a face like yours."

Tom laughed as he and Odhran hugged.

"So what are you doing here?" Tom asked. Growing up he and Odhran and their cousin Bill had been close, in fact Tom was much closer to them than his own brothers. But that close knit trio had been broken when Tom left for England and now would never be again with Bill's unwarranted death at the hands of a British soldier.

"Your ma didn't want your-" Odhran paused. Creasing his brows he looked around them.

Realizing that Odhran was searching for Sybil, Tom volunteered "Sybil's not here."

Seeing the look on Odhran's face, Tom shook his head. "It's not like that. Her mother has the Spanish Flu and Sybil couldn't leave her until she knew for sure ..." Tom began explaining about Lavinia's sudden death and Sybil's fear of losing her mother. "I expect she'll be here in two maybe three weeks."

Odhran nodded in understanding. "I was looking forward to meeting the lass." Grinning he added "I want to see the woman that captured your heart … I mean if you didn't take Katie McGinty or Mara Willis …" he shrugged his shoulders while Tom laughed.

"You'll see when you meet her. I couldn't help but fall in love. That she fell in love with me" Tom grinned as he shrugged his shoulders "I'm a very lucky man."

"Well we could stand here all day under the watchful eyes of those dirty Brits" Odhran suddenly stopped and gulped. "I don't mean … I … I didn't … Sybil"

Seeing how uncomfortable Ohdran had become Tom patted his arm. "It's okay. I guess I'll get a lot of that. But Sybil isn't like them." He glanced toward the nearest soldiers. "She believes in independence for Ireland."

Odhran nodded. "Of course." He glanced down at Tom's suitcases. "Well I better get you to your mother's. We can talk on the way."

Tom was amazed when Odhran led him to a 1913 Napier truck with the words Hanaran's Furniture painted on the sides of the wooden back.

"Now you see why I'm the one that came here to get you. Plenty of room for luggage." Odhdran laughed.

"So you're doing so well that you have your own truck now?"

"Aye Tom. People always need furniture." Odhran lifted one of Tom's suitcases and put it in the back of the truck while Tom did the same with the other one.

When Odhran nodded at the leather bag Tom still wore across his shoulder Tom shook his head. "I'll keep this one with me." He didn't want to explain to his cousin that he wouldn't let this bag or more particularly the small oblong box containing Sybil's jewelry it held out of his sight.

The trip to his family home gave Tom and Odhran plenty of time to catch up. Odhran had only written a few letters to Tom during his time in England usually at Christmas and Tom was sorry he hadn't been able to attend Odhran's wedding almost three years ago. When Odhran had written that he was marrying Tom was shocked that it wasn't to Kathleen Hackett who Odhran had mooned over since the boys had first started noticing girls.

"I want you to come over for dinner as soon as you can" Odhran said. "I want you to meet Mairead and little Connor."

"It seems strange doesn't it" Tom answered "to think we're grown old enough for wives and children. Sometimes I wonder where that boy that loved fishing and playing with matchstick cars or building forts with anything we could savage …" Tom looked out the side window at the streets he had run wild on as a boy. "But now I spend my time reading politics and thinking of the injustices of the world and …"

"You always were the serious one Tom. Even though you pulled off as many pranks as the rest of us there was that side of you. You've always seen the unfairness."

"You always wanted something more." Odhran turned towards Tom and smiled. "And now look at ya. Coming back as a journalist with a Lady soon to be your wife."

The truck stopped in front of the Branson family home. "Your Ma's really proud of you Tom. She's been looking forward to this day for so long."

Tom expected utter chaos in the house with all his brothers and sisters filling the front parlor but it was strangely quiet with no one in sight as he and Odhran entered the small foyer. As they set Tom's luggage on the floor of the parlor, he heard the faint sounds of pans clanging and smelled the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Odhran stayed behind in the foyer as Tom walked down the long hallway to the kitchen. Standing in the kitchen doorway, Tom watched as his mother leaned over the oven to pull out a pan. Tom had always thought his mother had a second sense when it came to her boys as she always seemed to know where they were and what they were doing and she showed this now as she set the pan on the stove top and turned around to face her son, a bring grin on her face.

Wiping her hands on her apron, "Tom" she said in that lovely Irish voice that he had so missed.

"Ma" he replied, his grin matching hers.

Moving with a quick agility that belied her years, Claire Branson moved across the room. "Oh let me look at ya" she said as she ran her hands across his shoulders.

Tears glimmered in her eyes. "Your home son. Finally your home."

"Aye Ma" Tom kissed her cheek and then pulled her in for a close hug. "I'm home." He kissed the top of her head.

They stood with their arms wrapped around each other for a minute or two when Claire suddenly pulled away and looked towards the doorway. "And where-"

"She's not here Ma."

xxxxx

"The evening post milord" Carson announced as he handed Robert several envelopes.

Seated as his desk, Robert laid the post on the desk top. Noticing that Carson remained standing there he looked at the tall butler. "Is there something else Carson?"

Looking quite serious the butler replied "I was just wondering about Lady Sybil."

Robert nodded. "She's … she's …" he hesitated as he turned his head towards the window for he didn't want Carson to see the tears that suddenly filled his eyes. "It seems quite serious Carson, not just with this dreadful flu but the hit on her head when she fainted."

"She's young milord and strong and-" Carson stopped as the image of Miss Squire came to his mind.

"Strong willed and strong minded" Robert interrupted.

Carson stood there silently wondering what, if anything, to say. He slightly bowed and turned to leave the library.

"Carson!" The butler stopped and turned back towards Robert. "Branson left and Lady Sybil did not go with him."

Carson nodded. He was still embarrassed to have witness that scene in the dining room. Although it was known that Lady Mary was his favorite, he did have a soft spot for Lady Sybil. Even though she didn't have her sister's elegance and sense of decorum, in fact the child had been quite an imp with her liveliness and mischievousness but she had always been a ray of sunshine in an otherwise staid and sedate environment. Yet he had been surprised and appalled at their announcement in the dining room. Never could he envision such a thing. A Lady of the house and that … that … It had to be he had seduced the innocent young lady despite whatever the lad had said.

"I think we can put this whole sordid incident away."

"Of course milord."

When it was obvious that Robert would say no more Carson took his leave.

Although Robert was naturally curious as to what had happened with Branson, he would not broach the subject with his daughter. He thought it obvious that she had come to her senses and realized what a mistake she had made.

He reached for the photograph he kept on his desk of her. The photographer had done such a wonderful job capturing her spirit. Her hair was wildly disheveled with wisps of it blowing in the wind but it was the look on her face, the wide grin, the impish glint in her eyes, that spoke of her liveliness.

True to his aristocratic upbringing, he wasn't a man that voiced his feelings unlike his youngest daughter. As a child she always seemed to express her happiness or sadness or anger. She was hell on wheels when she was mad or angry which luckily wasn't that often.

He ran his hand across the photograph and wondered what had happened these last few years. How had she become like a stranger to him? He stared at the photograph before silently saying a prayer for her recovery.

Putting the silver framed photograph back in its place, he looked down at his desk and saw the post. Picking up the stack of envelopes, he quickly glanced at each one, noting the return addressee, before laying it down on the desk. It was the postcard with a picture of a ship that stopped him. Curious, he turned it over and was surprised to see it was address to Lady Sybil Crawley. But it was the name of the sender that turned his blood cold. Love Tom.

His anger rose as he read what Branson had written and he threw the card down on his desk. Then just as quickly he picked it up again and tore it into bits. His daughter would not see this card nor any other mail that might come from this agitator.