Paris was a sigh of relief, a sanctuary from the war upon them, just miles away. Matthew sat in a small cafe with a croissant and a cup of tea. He had a single day of leave, and General Strutt had wanted to meet with him, although he didn't know why.
He hoped it wasn't about the Barrow case. It had been dropped when Roth was injured, and Matthew didn't want it resurrected. Thomas may not have done what was right, but he couldn't be condemned for feeling.
What else would it be, though? Why would a high ranking general want to meet with a Lieutenant who had made no significant contributions to the war? It didn't make much sense. It had to be about Barrow.
And if they'd found out that he had lied... In the moment, lying had seemed the right thing to do. But what if it cost him? Would it still be worth it then?
Matthew took a sip of the tea, trying to calm himself, when the little bell on the door rang, and a figure robed in an army uniform entered the cafe. Herbert Strutt was not quite so intimidating in a small cafe as he was on the battlefield, which was at least a little bit of a relief. Matthew lifted his head up and gestured Strutt toward the table.
"Lieutenant Crawley?"
Matthew stood up and saluted. "Sir."
Strutt gave permission for him to release and sit down again, and they sat at the table. Matthew's fingers were pressing together, and he was trying not to shake.
"How are you today, Crawley?"
"Glad to be away from it all, sir," Matthew answered honestly. "But I'll be ready to go back tomorrow."
Strutt nodded. "Good man. We need more men like you out there."
"Sir?"
"We've all heard of your bravery. When you went out to save Captain Roth? Your men were very impressed, at least five of them reported what you did," Strutt said, waving off the waiter who walked toward them.
"I only did what I thought was right," Matthew replied humbly.
"If it had not been for you, Roth would have died out there. The men have all said it looked rather stupid, running back into the heat of battle, but it was incredibly courageous."
Matthew glanced down at his feet. He didn't really remember what he had been thinking as he ran out to drag Roth back. It had been adrenaline, pure adrenaline, that led him to the decision. Honestly, his thoughts had not been ones of bravery at all. He had just gone with his gut and done what he needed to do. "I just hope Roth's alright," he said, unsure what else to say. He wasn't going to admit that his thought process, or lack thereof, was not as brave as it seemed, especially not to the general.
"Roth will live. I doubt he will return to active duty, but he will live without much impediment. He's very lucky, thanks to you. But that leaves your regiment lacking a Captain."
Matthew nodded. "I don't see how I can help with that."
"You're very humble, you know. I like that about you," Strutt said, with a laugh. "We're going to promote you."
"What? Why?" Matthew never thought he would be soldier material, much less qualified to be a leader. Why would they want him of all people?
"Your bravery in saving Captain Roth has proved to your superiors that you are a brave man, an excellent soldier, and dedicated to the cause. We could not think of anyone better to take Roth's position."
Matthew could barely process the information. "So you're promoting me to Captain?"
"Yes," Strutt replied. "Your humility is a model to us all. There will be official documents and all that, but now you are Captain Crawley."
Sybil walked through the halls of the hospital, her shift over. She was exhausted again, and relieved that it was over, but she felt good. She felt useful for once, and she was doing something right. And Nurse Adler had not been assigned to her shift, so she hadn't been forced to deal with snobbery.
As she reached the end of the hallway, she saw a person in the waiting room at the front of the hospital. Dark hair and pale skin; she recognized him, though it took a few seconds to register in her brain. "Thomas?" she whispered.
He turned his head toward her. "It's actually Corporal Barrow now," he replied. "Lady Sybil, nursing now?"
"Yes, I am," Sybil said proudly. "Is there any issue with that?"
"Not at all. As a medical man myself, I appreciate your work," he said.
Sybil looked him over. "Weren't you on the front?" She scanned over his entire body, her eyes falling onto his gloved hand. "What happened to you?"
"Got injured. Not enough to cripple me completely, but enough that I'm not going back to that hell again," Thomas replied flippantly. "But I have the training, so they want me to work back here, and I managed to get transferred back to Downton, so here I am, waiting to meet with Clarkson."
"Hmm. I must say I'm glad you're back. I'm sorry you got injured, though," Sybil said.
"It was your fiancee who found me," Thomas replied. "He got everyone together to help me. He saved me, really. I could have bled out but he didn't allow that to happen."
Sybil's eyes opened wide. "You were with Matthew? How is he?"
"Alright, I think. He seems to be holding up well."
"According to Mary, he was awful when he was here last. He couldn't handle anything because of the war."
Thomas shook his head. "I can believe it. The trenches are a completely different world. That's the kind of place where you just can't feel anything. You'll go mad if you do. Like I almost did."
"It's good you're working here, I think," Sybil said. "You'll understand the men who come back from there, as I can't even begin to."
"Yes, good," Thomas repeated.
"And you can intimidate all the other nurses who think I'm useless just because I have a title?" Sybil said, a request behind her words.
Thomas smiled. "Obviously, they've never gotten to know how much you care."
"You've never cared very much... If that's not impertinent to say."
"Since you're a lady, no, it wouldn't be considered impertinent. But no, I'll admit I've been apathetic toward others, and I can't say they're my priority even now, but war will change a man. It might be for the better or it might be for worse, but no man can go to war and come back the same."
Sybil sighed. "And we'll see that pan out more and more. Well, it was nice to see you, Corporal Barrow. I've got to get home, or else my parents will worry, and we certainly don't want that."
"You do that, Lady Sybil," Thomas replied.
Sybil paused. "Actually, here, it's Nurse Crawley. Don't let some of the other nurses throw you off."
"Very well, Nurse Crawley."
Sybil walked in the next morning with a sense of usual determination. She wanted to prove that she was more than just an attention seeking earl's daughter, and she wanted to help the men that were defending her. But today she was even more determined, because she knew she had an ally in Thomas Barrow.
She was directed toward a particular row of beds. It was the smallest amount of soldiers; three beds were empty, and the other six had soldiers with fairly minor injuries. Of course, they were bad enough to be sent home, but not bad enough for anything else. They didn't trust Sybil with anything bigger, as usual. Maybe she wasn't qualified to tend to some of the soldiers, but how was she ever going to learn if she never got the chance? She sighed and began to glance at the charts on the ends of the beds.
After a while of her work, which was fairly peaceful that morning, she noticed that Thomas had come into the ward. He stood in the corner, looking unsure of what to do. Come to think of it, Sybil wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. She waited a few minutes, and when he didn't have anything else at all to do, she waved him over to her row of beds.
"Do you have any work to do?" she asked.
"Clarkson hasn't exactly given me any tasks yet. Apparently I'm helping with quite a few things, but I don't know what all of those few things are."
Sybil gestured toward a bed at the end of the row. A young man with bandages around his eyes was reclining. "If you're not doing anything, could you keep Lieutenant Courtenay company? He's terribly lonely and none of his family has come to visit him."
Thomas nodded. "Of course. Fetch me if you find out that Clarkson wants me for some reason, please."
"Thank you," Sybil said genuinely. "I've several other things that I must attend to."
She rushed around for close to an hour, making food trays for the soldiers as they gradually woke up and giving them all the pain medication they needed. One man kept insisting that he needed more pain medication than she was allowed to give. She spent a good ten minutes trying to gently console him that more pain medication was only going to make him sicker, as he got angrier and angrier. Finally, when she was unable to reason any more, she called Doctor Clarkson over to convince the man that more pain medication would not be helpful.
With that situation solved, she went on with the rest of her work, finally checking to see how Lieutenant Courtenay was doing. To her surprise, Thomas was still talking with him, and they appeared to be having a deep, emotional conversation. That was something she had never expected of Thomas Barrow of all people.
She decided to leave it be. After all, Lieutenant Courtenay could use the company.
He was Captain Crawley when he next appeared in the trenches; he was shaking at the thought of this new role that he really didn't deserve, but he would try to be worthy of it. He had to be worthy of it. He had no choice.
"So you're replacing Captain Roth?" asked Corporal Lewis, a man of about Matthew's age. They had become rather good friends, being in the same regiment for a year. Lewis had a young wife that he had married only weeks before war broke out, and he spoke of her constantly. Matthew was typically happy to hear him speak of his wife; it took him away from the trenches and the man was so in love. On the other hand, sometimes it hurt because Matthew knew he would never experience that kind of love.
Matthew nodded to Lewis's question. "They thought I was qualified, I suppose. I don't know if it's their best decision, but I won't argue."
"You certainly deserve it," Lewis said strongly.
"You were one of the ones that recommended me, weren't you?"
"Of course I was. How could anyone not, seeing how you saved Roth with no care for yourself? They want men like that to lead, to inspire others to have the same sort of bravery. You're one of those."
Matthew shook his head and lowered himself against the trench wall. "I wouldn't say that. I wasn't even thinking in the moment, I wasn't trying to be brave."
"And that's another part of it," Lewis said, following Matthew's example and sitting down in the mud of the trench. "You're incredibly humble. You're exactly what they want in an officer, and I was more than happy to recommend you."
"How's your wife, Lewis?" Matthew asked, wishing to divert the conversation, feeling uncomfortable with the underserved praise.
Lewis pulled out a letter. "She wrote me this a few days ago. She's moved back in with her parents, my soldier's salary couldn't pay for our flat. But I'm glad, I don't want her to be alone. I miss her so much..." He wiped away a stray tear, trying to be inconspicuous. "I can't believe I never asked this, sir, but are you engaged?"
Matthew bit his lip. "That's a loaded question."
"It's yes or no. I don't see any other answer."
"Well then, yes, technically. I am engaged. Her name is Sybil, she's the daughter of an earl, and I'm the distant heir to her father's estate. She's very sweet and intelligent, and she's a nurse now."
"I don't see how that's complicated," Lewis said."
Matthew laughed, almost hysterically. Anything now held a dark sort of humor. "We don't exactly have a choice in it, Sybil and I. It's an arranged marriage, I guess you could say. And we like each other enough, we're just not passionately in love or anything like that. And..."
"And what?"
"Well... I'm in love with her sister."
Lewis sat back for a minute, then gave Matthew a sideways glance. "Damn."
"Exactly," Matthew replied.
"But if you're marrying Sybil because you're the heir, then couldn't you marry her sister? Isn't that how it works?"
Matthew shook his head. "If only it was that simple. Technically, yes, I should be able to, and really, her sister is the one I should be marrying. But she is unable to have children, and as my future wife's sole job would to be to provide an heir to keep the estate in the family, it doesn't work out that way."
"What a mess."
"It doesn't help that I'm an emotional wreck half of the time, and I can't seem to control myself. Last time I was on leave, I kissed her. I kissed my fiancé's sister. And Sybil doesn't know at all. Someday I have to tell her."
Lewis leaned forward. "Does she love you?"
"She says she doesn't- I mean, she does love me in her own way, just like I love her as well, but if anything we're more good friends- and I'm sure she says that she doesn't just to make me feel alright for not being madly in love with her. And her sister and I agreed that we weren't going to hurt her."
"But you're still going to marry her?"
Matthew nodded. "I have to. It's not like we had a choice in the first place. And I don't want to go into my marriage with hurt and betrayal behind it."
"I admire your ideals."
"I just wish I was strong enough to stand against it. But I don't want to hurt her, and I don't want to hurt my family. And it seems like it's always a choice between the people I love and myself."
Lewis sighed. "And knowing you, you're always going to choose the people you love."
The garden at the hospital was small, but pleasant enough. Sybil stood against the wall, watching as Thomas led out Lieutenant Courtenay, who held a white cane in one hand. She actually saw the ghost of a smile on his face, something that had been rare since the young man had come to the hospital.
"Are we ready to practice, Lieutenant Courtenay?" Sybil asked, stepping forward. "I'm Nurse Crawley. I'm afraid this is the first experience I've had training soldiers, so we're both in for new territory today."
"I suppose I'm ready, then, Nurse Crawley," Lieutenant Courtenay said, although there was hesitance in his words.
Sybil gave him a grin, before remembering that he couldn't see it. She patted his wrist. "Alright. Corporal Barrow here is setting out a few chairs. Those will be your obstacles. The key is to sweep widely with your cane. If the cane hits an obstacle, you'll know it's there. Are you ready to start?"
"I suppose I have to start somewhere."
Thomas took Lieutenant Courtenay's arm and led him into the middle of the chairs. "Alright. Here you go."
It took a few hours of stumbling around for Lieutenant Courtenay to become even a little bit comfortable with the exercise. But it was rewarding; for Sybil, for Thomas, and especially Lieutenant Courtenay, who was beginning to envision a life that he thought he might never have again.
Clarkson came outside on a sunny afternoon, as Sybil and Thomas were helping Lieutenant Courtenay practice again. The three had become close through a mutual goal, and Sybil looked forward to their daily sessions.
"Lieutenant Courtenay," Clarkson called, as he walked quickly toward them. "Good news! You're due to be released tomorrow and sent to Farley Hall to convalesce."
Sybil, Thomas, and Lieutenant Courtenay were all completely silent.
Finally, Lieutenant Courtenay spoke. "I'm perfectly alright convalescing here. In fact, these two have helped me a lot. If you'll allow them to continue helping me..."
"I'm afraid I cannot allow that. As helpful as I'm sure Nurse Crawley and Corporal Barrow are being, there are staff that specialize in helping recovering soldiers over in Farley Hall. There's no convalescent home nearer. And I cannot allow you to take a bed that would be used for another soldier who is in need of it far more."
Sybil couldn't disagree with Doctor Clarkson's logic, but her heart wanted to say something different. She kept her mouth shut though.
Until Clarkson turned around and Lieutenant Courtenay burst out into loud sobs and threw his cane down on the ground. Sybil bit her lip and began to walk quickly after Clarkson. Lieutenant Courtenay was not just throwing a childish temper tantrum.
"Doctor Clarkson, can't you see?" she cried, taking long strides to catch up with the doctor. "He's not only hurt physically, but he's not mentally stable either! He's on the ground, sobbing about how he should die instead."
"And the staff at Farley Hall are much better equipped to deal with that than we are. Lady Sybil, I know you feel strongly, but I've been in this business for far longer, and in any case, I can not allow good men to freeze because one junior officer is crying!"
Sybil stepped toward him. "First of all, it's Nurse Crawley. And I've talked with this man for several hours each day. He is not well, and moving him won't help that."
"Lady Sybil... Nurse Crawley, I have made my decision. He's leaving tomorrow." Doctor Clarkson opened his office door and shut it behind him with a definitive slam.
Sybil cast her eyes to the ground and wandered back out into the garden to bring Lieutenant Courtenay back inside.
Her shift was long that day, and it was nearly midnight when she finished and walked into the ward one last time.
She walked by Lieutenant Courtenay's bed.
He was deathly pale. There was blood dripping from his wrists. And there was a razor in his hand.
"It's so terrible, to think a man could get through a war and still not make it out in the end," Cora said, when Sybil recounted the story of Lieutenant Courtenay over dinner.
Mary took a bite of her fish, looking sad, but also thoughtful as she chewed. "Was it because he had to leave the hospital? Because Farley Hall was so different and far away?"
"I think that might have been part of it. He was very emotionally unstable, and he may have had depression of some sort. All of that could have played in, but the move was the impetus. But nothing was closer, so they had to send him there."
Robert shook his head. "It's awful. Is there anything we could do?"
Sybil knew her father was talking about finances. But an idea had struck her during her shift the previous day. Her parents would hate it, she knew. But she had to put it out there. If her parents didn't allow it, it could be known that she tried.
"There is a way, actually," Sybil said, her voice becoming low and sly. "But it would involve a lot of work and sacrifice. We know there's nothing close to Downton Hospital for officers to convalesce at. And we could change that."
Mary caught on first. Sybil expected an icy glare, but Mary simply looked surprised, not mad.
"What exactly do you mean?" Cora asked.
"I mean that this house would be a perfect place to hold a convalescent home," Sybil rushed.
To no one's surprise, Robert's first response was an angry, "No!"
"I think that's a wonderful idea, Sybil. Bravo!" Isobel said, in contrast.
It was Cora, however, who provided the most reason. "Sybil, I do think that's an excellent idea. However, are we up for it? Is the staff up for it? There are so many things to consider that I don't know if it's worth it."
"Well I do," Mary said bluntly, to everyone's surprise. All pairs of eyes around the table focused on her. "Why do you all act so surprised? We don't want any more soldiers taking their own lives after they've been through hell. I think we could make it work."
With Mary's endorsement, Robert's position softened. If his selfish daughter could give up her beloved home for injured soldiers, perhaps there was something to the idea. "I suppose it's not a bad thought. We'd have to give it a lot of consideration."
The discussion went on, but by the end of dinner, Sybil was fairly confident that her family had a plan, and that they would be able to do their part for the war.
As they left the dining room, Mary grabbed Sybil's arm. "Darling, that was a brilliant idea."
"I'm surprised you liked it so much."
"Would we want anything like what happened to Lieutenant Courtenay to happen to our men fighting?"
Sybil cocked her head to the side. "Do you mean Matthew?"
"Matthew, yes, and all the other men fighting that we know," Mary said, quick to brush off the suspicion. "All of them deserve a chance."
An odd mix of elation and sadness washed over Sybil as she tiptoed down the back stairs toward the garage. She was so glad her family was deciding to open the convalescent home, but on the other hand, she couldn't get the image of Lieutenant Courtenay's blank white skin with red stripes of blood out of her head.
She was skipping and blinking back tears.
Tom looked up as he heard the click of her heels on the pavement. "Sybil?"
"Hello," she said. She strolled over and sat down on the bench in the garage. "You'll probably hear this soon, but we're going to operate Downton as a convalescent home!"
Tom nodded. It wasn't his realm; he was completely against the war, but anything that made Sybil so happy was certainly a reason to rejoice. "I bet a lot of it was thanks to you."
Sybil blushed. "Well...yes." It was nice to have someone appreciate her. It was nice to have someone to share this with. It was nice to have him.
"I had no doubt. What inspired this sudden idea?" he asked.
Suddenly, the tears were poking at her eyes again.
She saw men die every day. Why did this one hurt her so much?
"A soldier... he killed himself because he was being sent far away to convalesce. Barrow and I had gotten quite close to him," she choked out.
Tom stepped closer to her and without any more prompting, Sybil fell into his arms.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but pulled her tighter.
Sybil felt comforted by his strength and warmth. It was nice to be in his arms.
It was nice to have him.
Would it be nice to love him?
So, if my plan for the story doesn't end up changing, we're right at about the halfway point. There's still some twists to come! Thanks for reading! Reviews encourage me to write more and make me very happy, so please review!