Chapter 10

5th September 1914

Sybil's POV

It had been a week and there was still no word from Branson. I knew that it was unlikely that I would have heard from him before now, what with the dramatic increase in the number of letters been sent recently. But there was still a small part of me that foolishly hoped that I would find an envelope addressed to 'Lady Sybil Crawley of Downton Abbey' in a slightly untidy fashion, hidden amongst the many others that arrived each morning. And each morning, I would awaken slightly earlier then the rest of my family. Each morning, I would visit Mrs Hughes and collect the small pile of post.

And each morning, I would give a disappointed sigh when I reached the bottom of the pile with no slightly untidy addressed envelope in sight.

This evening we were to attend a ball which Granny and Mama had organised, in a large hall in Manchester. Granny had given her reason of 'growing tiered of seeing everyone so melancholy about this god-forsaken war'. however the fact that talk of this ball had started mere days after Mary had declared that she was not going to marry Matthew, made me think that 'cheering everyone up' wasn't the sole reason for Mama's enthusiasm.

Only for the first ball of my season, had I seen her this fussy.

"Edith, dear, why don't you try the red ones on. Have you chosen your shoes, Sybil darling? Just give your cheeks a little pinch, my dear. Oh, I think we can manage one more feather in there." I would have found her fussing more irritating if I didn't feel so sorry for Mary. For every comment Edith and I received, poor Mary got three more.

This made me think that my suspicions about Mama's motives for this ball were correct. Just as I was admiring Mary's self control for not forcibly removing Mama from the building, it occurred to me that she may have the same motive. For she did not complain once.

A first I'm sure.

Mama's fussing had continued right up until the last second before we entered the ball. I soon as we crossed the threshold I spied the drinks table and made a beeline toward it, in an attempt to escape.

I had managed to remain unaccompanied for a rather impressive five minutes before the small orchestra started up a new tune. At that moment my attention was caught by Henry Gray, who was watching me from halfway across the room. He smiled and I began to make my way over to him just when he was blocked out of view by a smaller gentleman, about half a head taller then myself and slightly balding, who looked vaguely familiar .

"Lady Th-ybil," he drawled, a hint of a lisp in his voice refreshing my memory. "what a pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is mine Mr…Torrington. I hope you have been well?" Mr Torrington was one of the many gentlemen I made acquaintance with during my season. Just like many of the others he was not someone with whom I was too keen to spend time with.

However before I knew it I had been escorted on to the dance floor - I hadn't the heart to decline his offer - with only a quick apologetic glance at Henry Gray. Who, much to my annoyance, seemed rather amused at my predicament.

Before to long it was not only Mr Torrington who forced their company on me, but most of the other gentlemen I had met during the season. Most of whom had trodden on my feet so often it amazed me that they possessed enough coordination to place one foot in front of the other as they left my side.

There were some advantages to almost constantly twirling around the room. One of those is that it provided a rather nice place to observe Mary and Matthews very amusing behaviour. For even though she had spent a good portion of the afternoon fussing about her appearance, Mary looked as though she was trying to avoid all contact with Matthew one minute and then not take her eyes of him the next.

As for Matthew he seemed to be conducting the same behaviour. Whenever their glances crossed paths Mary would make a very obvious, overly loud laugh, leaving the person who she happened to be talking to looking politely confused.

As I turned once again, I spotted Edith talking to Sir Anthony. Again. No surprises there.

Another turn, accompanied by a well hidden wince as my right foot is crushed under the foot of the gentlemen I'm currently in the company of, who's name escapes me.

Much to my - and my feet - relief the music stopped and I quickly left the floor, my target either the drinks table or Mary. I had not got very far before I heard the words: "Ah, Lady Sybil." I gave the tiniest sigh before turning around with a large smile. Only to find myself face to face with Francis Gray.

"Oh, Mr Gray," my smile faltering slightly, I prayed he didn't notice. I don't know what it was but something about this man just made me feel uneasy. "You gave me quiet a start." I added trying to regain some composure.

He gave a crooked smile with a odd look in his steely eyes. "My apologies. Let me make it up to you." he extended his arm, "Would you do me the honour of a dance?" I nodded in response and tentatively took his arm. Any excuse to not have to look in his eyes.

Apart from their looks, he and his brother could not be more different. Whilst Henry's gaze was comforting and warm Francis' on the other hand was cold and gave you the feeling that he was looking straight into your soul, and not in the nice way. It was rather unnerving.

The dance was a waltz, which required us to be in hold for a large part of it. Not a prospect I was too thrilled about.

We had barely been on the floor a minute before I heard his voice in my ear.

"You look lovely tonight." I could feel his breath on my neck and it made me shiver.

"Why thank you, Mr Grey." I said, with a forced smile.

"You're receiving a lot of attention tonight, I noticed." I maintained my rather weak smile. "I'm sure the chauffer would be quite jealous if he were present."

I froze. Stock still in the middle of the dance floor, eyes wide staring into his which were dancing with amusement. He pulled me to the right and I came to my senses.

"What ever do you mean by that?" I said, trying to laugh, praying that I had misunderstood him and that really he knew nothing at all. However it was clear in his eyes that he did know and I was not mistaken.

"Oh please Lady Sybil, we both know exactly what I mean." he sneered as we entered another twirl. "you're an intelligent young woman and so I will not insult you by beating around the bush. I saw you and the chauffer in the garage the other day. Such a sweet scene, I almost felt for you both. Almost."

I felt sick and it wasn't from the twirling but from a mixture of nerves and surprisingly anger which had raised it's ugly head in the past few minutes.

"Really." I said, stiffly. "I suppose you're going to tell me that you're going to run off to my parents or the newspapers perhaps, unless I do what you want?"

He chuckled, his eyes reflecting his sick amusement. "Oh, you are a bold one aren't you my dear Sybil. But no. I'm not going to do that."

"Your not?"

"Well, not just yet. That is just one of many delicious possibilities and I haven't decided what I'm hungry for just yet."

"So why tell me if you have no objective?"

He leaned in close. "I like to watch you squirm. Not knowing what I'm going to do or when I'm going to do it. Watching you fall to pieces as you try to maintain your composure, knowing that with one call or letter, one person could turn your world upside down." he straightened up at the end of this little speech. "Why do you think I chose to tell you during a Waltz?"

"Because you clearly have some very disturbing issues?" I jested, not giving him the satisfaction of rendering me speechless a second time.

"Clever." he sneered, his smile vanished. "Because you have no where to run. You young ladies are too concerned with appearances to abandon their partner in the middle of a dance. So you are forced to deal with it there and then. It's so much more entertaining this way."

"Oh, you are a clever man aren't you, Mr Grey. You clearly do not know me very well at all, however." I smiled sweetly.

"And why is that?"

"I don't care what people think."

I snatched my hands out of his and rushed off the floor, pushing my way through some rather disgruntled guests, muttering apologies when ever I could.

I spied the door and made a bee line for it. Mama reached out and took hold of my upper arm as I passed. "Sybil, darling what ever is the matter."

"Nothing, Mama. I suddenly felt very faint, I think I need to sit outside a little while." I said, quickly.

"Well, do you want me too -."

"No I'm perfectly fine on my own, thank you, Mama."

"Oh, well if your sure, dear."

"Thank you." I muttered hurriedly and broke away.

I don't recall how I made it on to the balcony, but it was a blessed relief when did.

He knew. Francis Grey knew about Branson and I.

I loathed to admit it to myself but he was right, it was getting to me. Occupying my every thought. Although, I had to give myself some credit, I had only know a matter of minutes. I'm sure I would calm down tomorrow. Just push it from my mind and don't give him the pleasure of watching me 'squirm'.

I could hear footsteps approaching. Could I not have a moment to myself? I spun around. "Mama, I told you I was fi -… fine."

"I'm sorry. Should I leave you be?"

"H-Henry."

~oOo~

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