AN: Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Quite a lot of Sybil this week! Hope you enjoy.

To any of my readers that are French, God bless you, I sincerely hope your family are all safe. My support and love is with you. It is love only that can conquer this, we will, stick together. God bless.

January 1919.

Edith was suspicious the moment Edward peered his head around the drawing room door so cautiously as they stood talking after coming through from dinner. He always joined them after dinner, it was Mama's 'treat' as she called it. But they all loved it. They all loved Edward. Usually he slipped through he door with a cheeky grin on his face but not this evening. Edith knew there was something wrong and so did Mama. She tried to coax it out of him but he wriggled from her when she sat him on her lap upon the settee. Her mother had given her a look and she'd been clutching onto Edward's hand ever since making a social circuit of the drawing room. In between talking with guests she'd ask Edward how he was but half the time he didn't seem to hear her, his mind obviously miles away. The last guest was just murmuring her goodbye in Mary's ear before she too wandered into the hall to be waved off by Mama and Papa. It was now that Edith seized her opportunity and pulled Edward onto his lap.

"Tell me what it is Edward. You're worried."

"Sybil."

"She's ill." Edward just shakes his head quickly backwards and forwards.

"No, she went outside, by the servants exit, with a bag. I was leaving the kitchen from helping Mrs Patmore." That was another thing Edward did, he helped with the cooking and he loved it. Not that this was the important thing right now what on earth did Edward mean, she'd left with a bag.

"Mary, have you actually checked on Sybil?"

"No. I was going to now. Why?"

"Edward said she left out the servants door earlier." Mary's face is transformed and Edith knows her eyes raise in question.

"Oh my god. I thought I'd convinced her-" Their mother suddenly enters the room and they all stop dead, like three statues, on route to the door.

"Convinced who what?"

"It's Sybil." Mary takes a steadying breath and heads out the door. "You'd better come I imagine she's left a note, it will save me trying to tell you what I'm not totally sure about." Their mother rounds on her.

"Totally sure? What do you mean?" They are stood outside Sybil's door now, totally locked. It's Edward that fills in the gaps for their mother at that point. Anna appears soon after, key in hand.

"I was right, she's run away." Cora's face is a picture and she leans for the wall just as Mary drops the final bombshell.

"With Branson." It doesn't take long after that. Cora is adamant that she wants to come, Edith knows she has to drive and Edward doesn't want to leave 'Mama when she's upset.' And Mary ought to stay at home and try and distract the others from the missing members of the household.

The only delay comes when Patrick is following the well worn path from drawing room to library as they try and race across the hall. Cora and Edward slip down the servants stairs Patrick perfectly ready to believe they are playing a game. Edith doesn't escape so easily.

"I wanted a word. If you've a moment?" She just nods, the keys for the car pressed firmly into her palm so he doesn't see them. She'd been expecting this. He'd visited the doctor in London today and she hadn't yet had a run down of all he'd been told. And then there was the other situation, the private one. Although she'd been the one to instigate the idea of being lovers Patrick had been reluctant, he didn't want to 'ruin' her but now had seemed to warm to the idea just as Edith was beginning to worry. She wanted to talk with her mother about it. But well, it hardly seemed a good topic, Edith was a Lady not a kitchen maid she was supposed to be a virgin for her husband. "It's bad news I'm afraid. The doctor, he said two months at the most."

"But...but...they said six. How can...you're so well-"

"Edith. This doesn't mean you have to make a decision on anything. You have to believe me when I say that just being here at Downton for my last days will make me one happy man when I finally pass." She clasps his hands and then just bows her head. Words seem to churn in her mind. Branson. Patrick. Marriage. Cancer. Lovers. Sybil. And she knew, she couldn't deal with this now. She didn't know what she wanted. All her previous thoughts on her life, her and her sisters life's was falling about around her. First Edward, the war, then Patrick, now Sybil and Branson. It was all too much and she didn't feel like she had anywhere to turn. The person she wanted to tell stood before her, the person who understood her best was dying, he was the person who was asking the most of her, and she had no answer. Not now, not yet. She didn't think she would in time, and that thought; that thought terrified her more than all the others put together. What if this was her destiny stood before her, about to die. Could she let him go without having been with him, having loved him?

Sybil finds it half surreal that she's sat in the upstairs room of a pub, with a man; with Tom. It had all seemed so easy up to this point. Pack her suitcase- bring minimal amounts, but just enough. Meet him at the arranged spot. Pretend she was ill. But now, now she actually had time to think she couldn't help letting her mind wander to her parents; to the letter she'd left her mother. Her father would never agree to it. Never. But she knew her mother was a romantic and she wondered, she wondered deep down if she should have told her she'd fallen in love with the chauffeur. Perhaps she would have understood and then she could have had the wedding she really wanted, with her mother standing in a fancy morning coat: father by her side.

But then her eyes fall to Tom again and she remembers. She remembers he has a seat at the servants table and he says the phrase 'yes m'lady.' She remembers that he can't afford a big wedding, it was a wonder he could really afford a wife. He wasn't the son of one of Papa's friends. In short, he wasn't what they wanted for her. Tom was what she wanted. And however much she might try and explain she loved him they'd pretend it wasn't true- that she couldn't love the chauffeur. And she did love him, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. The problem was she also wanted to see her family again. Soon. Far sooner than she thought she might. She didn't care what others thought of her, what the papers might say, but she did care what her parents thought. What her sisters thought. And Edward in the future. She didn't want to forever be the sister that ran off. The sister that his children would never see and only be told bad stories about. And somehow that thought of the future, that haunted her more than anything else. The worst thing was she had a feeling that the image she was seeing of the future was never going to be true. The problem was, she was thinking of her family because she knew in her gut they were coming. Edward had seen her leaving hadn't he? He hadn't meant to, of course but he had, and he would say when asked where he'd seen her. He'd reply 'on the servants staircase.'

"What's the matter?"

"I'm thinking of my brother."

"You're missing him?"

"No, yes...I...I think he saw me-" his face falls, she knew it would that was why she supposed she'd kept it to herself. But she couldn't any longer. And really, really she was having doubts. Not about marriage. Or Tom but about what her parents deserved, they didn't deserve her running off in the night, marrying without their permission. They deserved a say. It wouldn't sway her, but they deserved a say when they'd always been such good parents to her. Her mother particularly had always been there, always stood up against Granny for her daughters' sake, so she didn't deserve this treatment.

He starts to pace, his hands delving into his hair.

"So I suppose they're on their way by now."

"We can't be sure. Edward eats upstairs he won't see the others until later. He might not realise I'm not at dinner."

"Regardless of whether he knows you're gone or not, he will soon. It's alright for you, but what on earth is going to happen to me. No job. No nothing, and likely banned from seeing you." She chews the inside of her cheek, she wouldn't give him up and she couldn't really bare the thought of being banned from seeing him. But she knew her brother. Someone would be at the pub for her within the hour.

"I won't let that happen. My parents aren't that unreasonable."

"Perhaps not. But from their point of view, I've stolen their daughter; made her forget everything she ever believed in."

"You haven't-"

"I know I haven't but they will think I have."

"You really think my parents are so narrow minded that they would be convinced I hadn't thought about this. They do know me you know."

"Really. They really know the fiery Sybil with the strong political views, the woman who wants to fight for women's rights and equality for all. The woman who's willing to reduce her own standard of living to improve someone else's?" Sybil wants to say yes they know that girl but when her mouth opens it falls closed again. Did they really know her? They used to, before the war, but now? Tom was right, it wasn't just women's rights anymore it was equality and she knew that really and truthfully they wouldn't agree with that. Her mother might understand eventually, she thought that she was like her mother, but out of love Mama had kept her strong views hidden from her husband- at most times. But her father, he'd never get it. And that was why she'd run away, stolen away in the night. It wasn't her sisters, Edward, her mother, or even really Granny (she'd make what she could of any situation- Tom's new job would help) but her father. He'd be disappointed, and she couldn't bear to see that look on his face. The look of disapproval- the look that said he utterly disagreed. She'd rather never see him again and remember him how he was. But did she? The truth was better than a lie after all, and she'd left them with a lie, a lie they might never forgive. She glances up at Tom again, he faces away from her, looking out the window. She moves from the bed to stand behind him.

"You want to go home don't you?"

"It's not that I-"

"I know...I know." He's turned to her and he presses his lips to her forehead. "They've just arrived anyway, your mother, Lady Edith and your brother."

Lavinia hadn't dined at Downton for some weeks. She visited yes, and naturally at Christmas she had joined in the festivities. She'd dined with Isobel multiple times, little Grace in tow. Cora was driving her somewhat up the wall with her constant assurances that every marriage had its rough parts and that she and Matthew would sort it out. It had been a little comforting at first but then as she began to realise that in fact she was perhaps a little harsh on Matthew and that really she desperately wanted him back by her side it was all getting rather irritating. She was therefore thankful as she wheeled Matthew from the library, where they had settled away from the guests after to dinner, for a little heart to heart, to the drawing room that she found it empty. Another reason she was pleased at the sudden disappearance of everyone was that she and Matthew, due to his persistence that they needed to return to the drawing room, had not finished their conversation regarding the position of their relationship. She wheels him to the spot between the fire and one of the armchairs.

"I want to move back to Eryholme, or you to Downton." She's amazed he's the first to speak, she thought she was the only one still conjuring up thoughts of their predicament. She thought when he'd announced his desire to return to the company that he wanted to hear no more about it. As she was so shocked the next words come out like a stumble- ill timed and awkward.

"Are you sure." He merely nods, a firm nod before he reaches for her hand, and for the first time since that day Patrick had arrived his lips touch her skin. Just as she thought the sensation would, it makes her skin prickle, in a good way, in a way she desperately hopes his skin twinges at her touch. The prickle of desire that spreads across the surface of her skin is the same time as that which buried itself within her veins beneath the layers of protection. A stark reminder of what they had before. If he senses her strange discomfort at the intimacy he doesn't notice and for that she's relieved, after all, they couldn't be lovers anymore, she had to stop her body from cravings those attentions.

"It's time we built a proper life, or as proper as it can be for little Grace." And just like that, that speckle of doubt that somehow had always sat at the back of her mind, and had in recent weeks engulfed it, but tonight had so far dwindled to insignificance. That speckle it illuminates again, catches alight. 'For Grace,' not for their marriage or love, for her, his wife. No, for Grace. It was lovely, truly adorable that he loved their daughter and wanted the best life for her, goodness it meant almost the whole world. But not all of it. It was a sprinkle of doubt that had blown out as quickly as it came but it always rested in the back of her mind, ready to be ignited.

The rest of the evening passes somewhat in a blur, but Lavinia knows something is up. Cora, Edith and Mary seem to huddle, even if they stand a good few feet apart whispering in some fashion as soon as the former two appear, which is quite some time after Mary, with awkward excuses of their whereabouts. Robert is oblivious. It's all rather uneventful for her, until standing to collect the book she left on the opposite table she stumbles on the carpet. A hand encircles her wrist.

For a split second she thinks she must be imagining the shape of those fingers over her pulse. The feel of his skin on hers. She must be imagining again, trying to dream of the touch she knows she can not have. It must be Robert's fingers that hold her firm. He could have reached her in time. Whereas the man she hopes it is, he can't stand.

All these things race across her mind in half a second. The time it takes for her to turn her head and her mouth to fall open into the perfect 'O' that mirrors the one before her, and likely, if the hush gives anything away, by everyone in the room.

It's then, as she glances down her eyes taking in the sight of his straight legs, albeit slightly trembling, that the tears seem to fall onto her cheek, silently. And, as he sits back down in his chair at the assurances of the collection of voices all around her, and she kneels in front of him, he takes her hands, and he looks only at her. The speckle of doubt in her mind, vanishes.

For now.

Mary isn't sure what's worse: Richard's grabbing at her arm the moment she leaves the drawing room after Dr Clarkson's explanation as to Matthew's remarkable recovery or the fact Matthew had stood at all. It was Richard all over that he first time something joyful happened in the house he would be pressing for the date of the wedding. The war was over now and Mary knew she had nothing to hide behind. The only shred of hope at holding the event off was Sybil's impending decision. At least Mama and Edith had retrieved her. The problem was she really did feel like she was losing out now not only did she love Matthew (she'd finally admitted that fact to herself) but he was now healthy and could offer all that Richard could offer. She knew also that it meant he was going to be trying ever harder to provide everything she might want, to make it next near to impossible for her to turn him down. The ironic thing was Richard was a man who wanted to make a profit, her story would make him that profit, yet, he didn't want it. He'd rather annoy her, play a game with her, make her utterly dependent on him. She was his prey. And she had fallen for it, she didn't want to wriggle from his grasp, she didn't want the shame, the story. And she hated that more than anything.

"It wasn't just the wedding date I wanted to speak to you about." He still has her cornered at the bottom of the stairs. She turns her gaze up to him. She doesn't answer, she doesn't give him that pleasure. "I want your opinion on decor for Haxby Park."

"Why?"

"Because we will live there when we marry and I suppose you ought to have a say in what it looks like. Can't have you running back to Downton, can we?" He sneers at her.

"Well, it's you that has the money I fail to see why you're asking me. You've never asked my opinion before."

"Mary, don't me sound worse than I am. I ask your opinions. I am now. I have plenty of my own ideas, but I want yours, will you come and take a look?"

"Well, it's much like Downton, a round gallery. Big rooms. But don't you think it's a little close to Downton for your liking?" She cocks her eyebrow at him, pleased to finally have one back on him.

"It might only be for a short time. You might grow bored of your Mama's dinners and then we can move."

"And what happens if I don't grow bored of Mama's meals?"

"One problem at a time Mary. I need to get you down the aisle first." What with Matthew might have been a joke is a threat when it comes from Richard's mouth and he leans over her again, she takes a step back, into the banister. She tries to tilt her head away as he leans still closer, his intention suddenly very clear. She tilts to give him her cheek. "Don't shy away Mary. It's just a kiss. You'll have to have me in your bed one day." It's a relief he kisses her, as it allows her to swallow the bile that gurgles in her throat. Not that it totally goes away, how could it when a man like Sir Richard had his mouth pressed to hers. She swallows the need to wipe her mouth when he pulls away.

Matthew thought the knock might be the doctor come to apologise yet again for his mistake. When he hears Bates talking so politely, as if to a woman he suspects Lavinia and briefly, oh just so briefly Mary. It comes as a shock therefore to have Cousin Violet stood before him, quite filling his bedroom doorway. He goes to stand up, a wave of feeling shifting through his legs as he makes that decision, so, his nerves really were working again. But Violet gestures for him to remain seated and instead, pulling a chair rather closer than Matthew finds comfortable begins what can only be classed as a speech he never thought he'd hear her make.

"I'm don't often talk of the heart, as it is seldom helpful to do so, but I appreciate it is not solely there for the function of pumping blood. And I know all too well the feeling of it broken. Mary's heart I believe is broken-" Here he opens his mouth to speak, if Violet was about to try and make him chase Lavinia away she really did have another thing coming. "No, don't interrupt, let me finish. I don't blame you for breaking her heart I believe she probably broke her own. But far worse than all that is the situation she now finds herself in. She is, I believe attached to a man she has neither regard for nor, does he have any appreciation for her."

"Cousin Violet, I don't wish to be rude. But surely this speech is directed at Mary?"

"I haven't really got to the point yet."

"That's very unlike you." She grins at him.

"Yes yes. Sir Richard is using her Matthew. We've all tried to persuade her out of the engagement, she has listened to nobody. But she will, I think, listen to you."

"So you wish for me to try and persuade her?" He can't help but smile, the Dowager Countess wasn't half a plotter. His companion merely nods her head. "And what if, by some stretch of everyone's beliefs, she likes the man and wants to marry him?"

"She doesn't. But I believe the man has her hands tied. He knows something and is threatening to publish it. The price for his silence is Mary." He knows his brow crumbles at that what on earth could the man know of Mary, or the Crawley family that was worth publishing? He opens his mouth to ask just that but Violet's mouth twitches. "All I will tell you is that's it's a scandal. One that would ruin the whole family. Mary most of all." That seals the deal for Matthew, he never liked Sir Richard much, from what he'd gleaned of the man he certainly wasn't good to Mary and this reason Violet was throwing about, some scandal, seemed like just the thing that would keep Mary firmly at his side. He was bullying her. And my, Matthew had been to hell and back with the war, he wasn't about to let an enemy into his family's household; Mary's bed.

"You do know I'm only doing this because I don't like the man. I have no ulterior motives. Only that. I'd like him gone as much as you would. But, if I uncover any partiality on Mary's side, the deal's off."

"I'd expect no less." She stands, but just as she reaches the door she turns. "But you needn't lie to me Matthew. You might be trying to tell yourself you have no ulterior motives, but we both know you do. The heart once touched is difficult to retrieve."

Cora felt awkward as she lay in bed, Robert watching her. His hand was already snaking over her stomach trying to find the places she would squirm. She tries not to react. Tonight wasn't the night, not when there was all that needed to be discussed over Sybil. She reaches for his hand, stilling it on her abdomen. He peers up at her with a boyish frown on his face that reminds her only of Edward and she almost leans forward and ruffles his hair but she manages to refrain herself.

"Is something the matter?" He sits up now, falling onto his own side of the bed, back flat against the headboard as he watches her.

"I don't know how to put this nicely, but we have some talking to do, about Sybil."

"Why now, what could have happened when she's ill? It's not serious is it?" He jumps from the bed suddenly, his hands flying for his dressing gown. She chuckles slightly but then holds back, Robert was never one that liked being laughed at, it took some time for him to get used to her teasing him.

"The point is darling." By this point he's clambered back into the bed and is watching her intently. "She's fallen in love."

"What!? Cora you must be joking she hasn't said-"

"With Branson." The wind seems to howl considerable louder than it had been before at that point. He climbs from the bed again and paces the room, his hand combing through his hair. She'd seen him do this only once before, just after his father had died she'd awoken to him doing this pacing in the middle of the night. He deemed Sybil's predicament drastic, as did in many ways Cora.

"And what does she expect me to do for her? Money? A house? Well, she's got another thing coming! She won't be spoilt any longer! I've forked out money on her education, her life and she's going to throw all that away. Throw away a life many dream of, she must be mad!"

"Robert-"

"I won't hear it Cora. I don't want to hear you say 'but she loves him isn't that worth something?' Because quite honestly, yes, it's marvellous, but I imagine far harder in lesser conditions than our own." She rolls her eyes at that, she had always struggled to make him into an open romantic even if, simmering beneath the surface was a fire that many didn't know existed. Robert ran on love, really. It was why he was angry now, he felt like Sybil was betraying that bond. And well, she had always been his favourite. "I'm going to go and speak with her. And as for Branson. He can go."

"He's left already. He's staying in the village, until he hears more."

"I should think so the filthy man. I've been paying him, and for what, to seduce my own daughter." His voice seems to crack and he marches to the window.

"Robert-"

"What!?"

"I don't want to let her go either. And I agree, I wanted much more for her. But she's a free spirit we've always known that. And I believe that she and Branson do love each other. I don't think he's corrupted her. And she won't be swayed from her resolve I can assure you." He doesn't say anything to that just remains staring steadfastly out the window.

"One thing I'm not quite sure about is how on earth you found out about all of this?" She almost tells the truth, she does, but then she thinks of Branson, of the way Sybil had kissed his cheeks before they left the pub, promising this wouldn't change anything and she knew she couldn't blacken Branson for Robert.

"Sybil told me." He only huffs at that, no doubt angry that there indeed seemed no way in which Sybil was going to extracted from the man's grasp. "It could be worse. He could be like Jane, only looking for the advantages your position might offer her and her son."

"Cora we don't know she's looking at me like that, she might have genuine feelings. And, speaking of her, she's a matter we've got to sort out."

"I know, but my point is, Branson is not going to gain anything from the relationship. No money, no position-"

"And therefore he is honourable." He whispers the words and Cora barely hears them above the blowing of the curtains.