Author's Note: All of your questions—or most of them—are answered in this chapter, which also comes with an Angst Warning (Next chapter will have an Angst Warning as well, for future reference). I hope you enjoy it anyway, and don't decide to come after me with pitchforks! ;)


You loved me cause I'm fragile

When I thought that I was strong

But you touch me for a little while

And all my fragile strength is gone

Set me free, leave me be

I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity

Here I am and I stand so tall

Just the way that I'm supposed to be

But you're onto me,

And all over me

-"Gravity" by Sara Bareilles


"So there we are, Edith is screaming at the top of her lungs, and the meanwhile car is busy careening down the front drive at Loxley, completely out of control…"

"Tom has to hear the sparkler story—Edith, come on, now, it's funny! I have to initiate Tom into our family somehow…Oh, darling, don't look at me like that. Now, Tom, one year the whole family came down to visit me in Newport for Fourth of July weekend…"

"Matthew, did Mary ever tell you about the time…"

"She didn't realize that Edith was behind her, and Mary turned around and the sparkler in her hand singed Edith's eyebrow clean off…"

"Grandma!"

"More wine, anyone?"

"So she finally steps on the brake and we skid to a stop right in front of my mother's prize hedges, but the damage had already been done…to this day we still can't get any grass to grow where the tire marks are…"

"I'm happy to say she's much improved now—the eyebrow, as you can see, grew back without any problems—"

"Mary looks right at me and says—"

It was just after seven, and the rehearsal dinner was well under way. At Matthew and Mary's request the dinner had been served on the lawn, tables shoved together under a massive tent that had been set up to protect them from the rain that threatened to fall from the clouds that had rolled in after that afternoon's picnic. Every few minutes a distant roll of thunder would sound, but no one seemed to be paying much attention to the weather. All around them the guests were drinking, laughing, and—so it seemed to Sybil, anyway—apparently locked in a fierce competition with each other to see who could tell the most embarrassing family story. The dinner plates had been cleared away and dessert was about to be served at any moment, but no one seemed in a big hurry for it to arrive. Everyone was too preoccupied with having fun, and Sybil had to admit that this might have been the most relaxed she had felt since the dance lesson this morning. She was seated next to Tom, who had one arm slung over the back of her chair as if there were no other way he would rather sit. Whenever he moved to gesture or take another sip of his wine, his arm would brush against Sybil's bare skin in her black backless dress—the very same one that Tom had enjoyed so much when she had modeled it for him in the pub, trying to find the perfect outfit for the cocktail party—and cause goosebumps to erupt across her flesh. Sybil didn't care. She was actually finding, in spite of everything, that she liked it. Every time their hands would brush she would be reminded of their night in the Renault, the very thing that had so mortified her a mere twelve hours before now serving to nearly make her feel hot and bothered all over again. It had been months—years, really, if she was being honest with herself—that she had felt the same kind of connection, physical or otherwise, that she felt with Tom Branson. If she really was going to have to give that up when the weekend was over, then she was going to enjoy every second while she still could.

And of course, that little voice in the back of her head kept reminding her, no one's saying you have to give it up at all…

A small smile played at the corners of Sybil's mouth as she turned to watch him, idly sipping from the glass of wine in her hand. She seemed to notice everything about him in a way that she had never done before…the way the skin around Tom's eyes would crinkle just slightly when he laughed, how he would lean in listening intently as Anthony told the story of how they all worked together to teach Edith to drive all those years ago, the way every time he laughed at one of the many humiliating anecdotes her relatives had to offer his gaze seemed to flicker back to Sybil a bit, as if he were trying to see whether she was laughing too…the way that whenever he looked her way, his eyes still had the same sweet warmth that she'd seen when he'd taken her out of the rain into the pub that first day they had met. It seemed like every time she looked at him, he would do something to remind her that in all her years she had never met someone quite like Tom Branson before. He had done the impossible, it seemed, reached out and broken through the walls that she had spent six months carefully constructing. Her smile grew faraway as she thought back to last night in the garage, how he had kissed her so hesitantly at first, trying to make sure she really wanted this. How the kiss had quickly escalated, making her feel things she hadn't for so long…it all came rushing back to her at once, and she found a blush creeping up her cheeks as she watched him, a thousand things she wanted to say to him swirling through her head…

"Would anyone like anymore wine?" her father's voice startled her out of her reverie, and she looked to see that all the bottles at their table seemed to be empty thanks to seemingly endless toasts and refills—not that anyone was really complaining. "Where's William got to?" Robert asked, craning his neck to try to get a glimpse of the boy. "He should be bringing up some fresh bottles by now…"

Sybil's eyes darted down to the very end of the table, noticing immediately that Daisy's seat was empty. She had arrived only a few hours before, and Sybil knew that William had been trying to get her alone ever since. "I'm sure he'll be back in a minute, Papa," she jumped in quickly, wanting to cover for the hopeful couple who had waited long enough to finally get together. "He's probably just gone to use the bathroom or something—you work him too hard, Papa, honestly," she said, mock-scolding him as he began to protest. "You just stay there. I'll get the wine myself. I'll be back in five minutes."

"Sybil, really, there's no need. William can get it whenever he gets back—"

"No, I don't mind, honestly. It'll be nice to stretch my legs anyway. Really, it's no trouble. You just stay here and enjoy the party. I'll be right back."

"Need a hand, love?" Tom offered, standing up halfway as Sybil got to her feet.

She smiled down at him, shaking her head. "I think I can manage. You stay and have fun. I'll be back in a minute." She turned to go, but something stopped her, and before she knew it she was leaning down to brush a kiss across his lips. He seemed surprised at first, apparently not expecting a kiss right at that moment, but after a moment's hesitation he kissed her back. His lips tasted sweetly of wine, and Sybil had to force herself to pull away before anyone started to tease the two of them. Martha, she was sure, was already eyeing them and preparing some sort of witty remark in her head. She smiled down to Tom before slipping back into the house, hurrying down to the wine cellar, wanting to grab a few bottles and return as quickly as she could before she missed anything…

Tom watched her go, a blissful smile on his face. Robert caught him staring and smiled. "What are you so happy about?"

Tom chuckled, turning his eyes on the Earl. "This…this may not make much sense to you, sir, but if you would…I'd like to ask your permission to date your daughter."


She was at the staircase when she ran into Larry, who immediately offered to help her with the wine. She considered a moment, ignoring the warning bells that were going off in her head already. It didn't really seem fair to let Larry help her out when she had already said no to Tom—how much help did one really need fetching a few bottles of wine, really—but she was already halfway to the cellar and she was having a hard time thinking of a good way to say no. Besides, she had completely blown him off at the picnic today…

He probably didn't deserve another second of Sybil's time, just like Edith had said. But maybe talking to him was the final thing Sybil needed to do in order to move on. At the very least, she figured it was worth a try.

"Sure, that'd be great," she said, gesturing for him to follow her.

They didn't say a word as they made their way down to the wine cellar, silently making their selections of well-aged bottles from the dusty shelves. It was Larry who finally spoke, his words seeming to echo through the small, cramped room. "We never got to finish our talk at the picnic today," he said hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder at her. "And you never responded to my text…"

Sybil bit her lip, glad that she was still facing away from him so he wouldn't see the guilty look on her face. "Yeah…sorry about that, I just…"

"Well, I really was hoping to talk to you…all weekend, actually, only I haven't gotten the chance. So I thought—"

"Look, Larry," Sybil said, cutting him off as she turned to face him with what was perhaps the first genuine smile she had given him in months. "You don't need to do this. Really, I'm…I'm okay. You don't need to explain anything to me."

He seemed to wince, as if Sybil's words had caused him pain. "No, Sybil, I really think I do…"

"No, I'm serious. Everything that happened between us, it was months ago, Larry. We don't need to go digging up the past again. To be honest, ever since I got here, I've been realizing that…" She chuckled as the words came to her, surprised by just how true they were. The feeling had been growing ever since she had snogged Tom in front of Larry, she had just been too afraid to voice it until right now."Honestly? I'm sick of you and me. Of our whole damn sob story, of everything that happened back then and how we keep dwelling on it now...or, at least, how I kept dwelling on it all this time. I just want to move forward, okay? I'm not interested in going back. Not anymore, not…not ever." Suddenly she felt lighter than she had in ages, like all the words she had held in for so long had been doing nothing but weighing her down all this time. "So let's just put all that behind us and try to enjoy the rest of the weekend, okay—starting with our dessert. Come on, they'll be wondering if we got lost if we keep them waiting any longer." She smiled at him and turned to go, already imagining Tom's face when she told him about this conversation, how proud of her he would be…

"I slept with your cousin," Larry blurted out the moment Sybil's back was to him, as if he were physically incapable of holding the secret in any longer. "I…damn it all to hell, Sybil, I'm sorry. I can't…I can't go another day without telling you. It's eating me alive, Sybil. I slept with your cousin. I slept with Rose."

She froze in her tracks.

Suddenly the walls of the wine cellar seemed to be suffocating her, closing in around her until she was crushed under their weight, or was it her lungs themselves that were constricting so painfully it was impossible to breathe? I slept with Rose. I slept with Rose…His words echoed through her mind, so frantic and so matter-of-fact, so cold at the same time that Sybil felt her own blood freeze in her veins. Sybil tried to swallow, but her mouth seemed to have gone dry as powder. She tightened her now sweaty grip on the wine bottles, afraid that if she did not they would slip from her hands and shatter, joining her heart on the floor. And then what would she tell her father? How could he possibly understand that she had destroyed two bottles of his best vintage wine because Larry had essentially broken her heart all over again?

No. This couldn't be real. None of this could be real. It couldn't…

But it was. Six months of tearing her hair out as her heart lay in pieces on the floor, of beating herself up as she went over and over in her mind what she could have done wrong, how she could have pushed him away, had all come to this. Six months of trying to find herself again after Larry Grey had shattered her heart had been for nothing, because apparently he wasn't finished torturing her yet. He had destroyed her all those months ago, and piece by piece she had tried to put herself back together. She still wasn't finished yet. She had thought that bringing Tom into her life had been the start of finally finishing the puzzle, but now Larry had broken her again, perhaps even worse than last time.

For six months, Sybil had wanted to know the reason why Larry had shattered her heart with no warning before her very eyes. Now, she had finally gotten her wish. The phrase 'be careful what you wish for' had never resonated with her so strongly as it did right now.

"Wh—what?" she croaked, unable to look at him, to think, to breathe when she could feel his eyes on her like that.

Larry was still talking, his words seeming to go in one ear and out the other for all that Sybil was concerned. He was stumbling over his own tongue, as if he had rehearsed this speech a hundred times and still not gotten it right. Dimly, almost sadistically, Sybil wondered if he had practiced his best man toast for tomorrow as often as he had practiced his adulterous confession to her. Now, all of a sudden, everything seemed to make sense—his text, now so far away it was as if it had been sent in another lifetime, the way he was so jumpy at the picnic when he had pulled her away from the others. Sybil realized with a start that he had been trying to tell her this, this horrible secret that made her feel as if someone was squeezing her heart until it burst, from the moment he had seen her at the cocktail party with Tom. Oh God…

He was still talking. How could he still be talking? How could there possibly be anything else in the world that he could say when he had already shattered Sybil's world with this new revelation? How could he have anything left to say to her? How? "I slept with your cousin, Sybil, with Rose. Six months ago…well, bugger, that's not right. It was eight months ago, if I'm being honest, and after all this time you deserve the bloody truth—" Eight months? Eight months? But we …we broke up six months ago…"We didn't mean for it to happen, Sybil, honestly, but I ran into her one night when I was working late and one thing led to another, and…we were…good…together. So we…sort of kept at it like rabbits for a while, Rose and me." She wasn't entirely sure, but for a second it almost seemed like Larry sounded proud of himself as he spoke.

Sybil was sure she was going to be sick.

"…anyway, that's why I broke it off with you. It was getting…too difficult to juggle things, and obviously, it was…morally wrong," he added as if as an afterthought. "I wanted to tell you from the very beginning…well, maybe not the very beginning, but at least when we ended things, but Rose was afraid how people would react if they knew. She wanted to keep it quiet, and I really didn't want the trouble our families would cause if they knew, so I agreed. And things were, well, great for a while, but the whole time it was eating away at me. I couldn't go on without you at least knowing, and I was convinced that Rose was just a fling, and I had made up my mind to end things with her too." He grimaced. "But.. but then…"

There was an agonizing pause. Why was she still standing there? Why hadn't she gotten up and left in the middle of his tirade? Did it have anything to do with the fact that she couldn't seem to feel her legs?

"Then Rose told me she was pregnant."

Whatever was left of Sybil's heart disintegrated even more.

"And God, I tell you, I was scared. I was ready to up and run anyway, just head for the hills. I should have. If I had, none of this would have happened in the first place…at least, not all of it." Larry gave a heavy sigh, and Sybil had the sinking suspicion that for him, the worst of the story was not over. And she hated him for it. Couldn't he see that she had suffered enough? What was the point in telling her any more other than to kick her when she was already down? And more importantly, how could there be anything worse than what he had already said?

"So, like the fucking sick bastard I am, I stuck around. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, who knows?"

Oh, you are? Sybil thought dully. Well if you're a glutton for punishment, then what does that make me?

"And things were great, for a while. We really worked well together. Until…" She couldn't see him, but she could tell that Larry's voice had hardened, becoming as bitter as Sybil's would be right now if her throat would unlock enough so that she could speak. "Until she met that new guy. You know, the bloke she brought to the cocktail party until he had to run back home to the wife? Once she met him, all bets were off. She was just using me as a placeholder until a better prospect came along, I guess. That's when she told me she'd lied the entire time we were together. She wasn't…she wasn't pregnant. There never was a baby, Sybil. There never had been. She just used that in order to get me to stay with her. And the moment someone better came along she left me in the lurch. Broke my heart, it did…"

You have no right to talk to me about a broken heart, Sybil wanted to say.

"But I tried my best to move on after she'd hurt me like that, you know—well, I don't think I need to tell you about moving on." She didn't know how his voice could sound so flippant during all this, as if he thought that just because she had apparently moved on herself his words no longer held the power to cut her to the core. "I even thought about giving you a call, explaining the whole thing and begging for another chance, but I think we both know that would have been beating a dead horse. I thought it would be obvious to the both of us that even without what happened with Rose—" Had his voice broken just now? Did he know that instead of making her sympathetic to his plight, all it made Sybil want to do was punch him in the face? "—that we're better off with other people. We were never really compatible, Sybil, and it was stupid of us to think that we were. Anyway, I knew you wouldn't take any of my calls even if I tried. So, I just tried to go it alone for a while, and that worked. But when I saw her on Wednesday at the cocktail party, I realized…I'm in love with her. I'm in love with Rose MacClare. And I knew it wasn't right to keep this secret from you anymore. No matter what happens, you deserve to know the truth. Sybil…oh, God, please, just say something. Say anything…"

For the first time, he actually sounded concerned for someone other than himself. Sybil didn't care. He could stand there and beg her to speak to him all day long and it wouldn't make a single bit of difference. She took a step forward, her legs wobbling a bit beneath her. When the movement did not make her collapse to the ground, she kept walking, leaving him calling after her to slow down, to wait for him, to do anything. Sybil barely heard him. Her chin was trembling and her mouth drawn tight, her eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears inside. After all that had just happened, there was no way in hell she was going to start crying in front of Larry Grey. She didn't have the strength left in her to handle that, not after the new blow she had just been dealt. She heard him start to follow her, his feet pounding on the stairs and clicking against the crisp marble flooring of the entryway, but she did not look back. She couldn't.

Sybil had thought that she was finally able to move on, just as Tom had said she would be someday, but all Larry's words had done was tear open old wounds that were still raw and healing. How stupid she had been, to think that just a few days with Tom could be enough to heal what had taken months to stop aching on her own.

She wasn't sure how, but somehow or another she made it back outside. All around her people were still laughing and talking and toasting, waiting for the triumphant return of Sybil with more wine and unaware that her entire world had just been blown to pieces by one man's confession.

For a moment, Sybil hated them.

She heard Larry run up behind her, but she didn't react. At the sound of the movement, Edith looked oer her shoulder at the two of them. One look at her little sister's stricken face, pale as a ghost with what looked like tears dancing in her eyes, and Edith was on her feet and walking over to them. "Sybil?" she asked, her eyes wide and worried. "Sybil, what's happened?"

She still couldn't speak.

Edith looked from Sybil, still holding the wine bottles helplessly in her hands, to Larry standing behind her looking about a thousand times more guilty than if someone had just caught him cheating at cricket again. Her face paled, understanding immediately. "Oh my God," she whispered, staring at Sybil in horror. "He's told you, hasn't he? He's finally told you."

Sybil hadn't thought that anything could hurt more than what Larry had just told her, but the fact that Edith had known about it all along almost knocked her breath from her lungs all over again. "You knew?" she asked in a ragged whisper.

"Sybil…" Edith looked nearly as miserable as Sybil felt. "Sybil, darling, I'm so sorry…"

She couldn't look at Edith's hazel eyes, so full of sympathy she looked as if she might burst. Sybil looked past her to Mary and her mother, all of them staring at her, noting that all of them, even Susan, even Anthony, shared the same facial expression. Only her father and Shrimpy, and to a certain extent Matthew, seemed more or less oblivious to the fact that everyone else's eyes were shining with pity for Sybil. The wine bottles finally slipped from her grasp, tumbling out of her hands to land safely on the soft grass below. They knew. They had all known.

Rose in particular looked horrified as Sybil turned away, missing as Tom leapt to his feet. He darted over to Sybil, Rose at his heels. "Sybil!" Rose hissed, her tone sounding desperate already as she tried to catch up. "Sybil, please don't say anything…"

And then Tom was there, pulling her into his arms, and Sybil all but collapsed into his embrace.

She clung to him as she had never done before, burying her head in his shoulder as she tried to hide from the world and the harsh truths within it. A tiny, strangled sob escaped her throat as his arms came around her tight, cradling her head against his shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, breathing in the scent of him and ignoring the fact that all eyes were now on them. He didn't say a word, merely held her there, and Sybil honestly thought that was the best thing that he could have done. She felt safe in his arms in a way that she couldn't remember ever feeling in her life, and although she knew that a simple hug would never be able to erase the damage dealt to her that day, she figured it was as good a place as any to start.

Until Rose spoke again.

"I can't believe you told her!" she shrieked, her voice an accusation pointing directly at Tom.

And Sybil's heart stopped beating for the second time that day.

He had known too? Who had told him, Rose or Larry or one of her sisters? Her grandmother, who was now shooting daggers at Larry with her eyes? Or had it been obvious enough that everyone but Sybil had been able to guess right away, leaving Sybil to go on as obliviously as ever while they all gossiped about it behind her back?

Tom had known. They had all known, but somehow none of that hurt worse than Tom. He had known, and he hadn't told her.

She pushed him roughly away from her.

For just a second she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, and she hated herself for it. As the first drops of rain began to fall from the threatening sky above, Sybil turned away and began to walk back across the lawn, away from the house. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had to get out of there. She didn't look back, not even when Tom called after her.

You knew and you didn't tell me.

"What's this all about?" Robert asked his wife, utterly confused as he watched his youngest daughter walk away, half the party staring at her in her wake.

Cora shot him a sad sort of look. "Oh, Robert…now isn't the time to catch on."

"Sybil!" Tom called, but she had started to run as more thunder rolled in the distance. "Sybil, come back! Sybil…"

She ignored him. Tom swore under his breath and started to follow her, but before he had taken two steps something made him change his mind. He turned on his heel and suddenly lunged for Larry, giving him not even a moment's warning before Tom's fist collided with Larry's jaw. The punch caused pain to ricochet through Tom's hand, but seeing Larry stagger backward clutching his face as the crowd gasped in horror made it worth it.

Tom didn't give anyone a chance to reprimand him for what he had done. Shaking out his aching hand, he left Larry kneeling in the dirt and ran after Sybil.