Look, I'm alive. I'm sorry, the rest shall be up soon. Then I might just bung the whole thing up as a final chapter for you. Sorry.
~pureclass
His rage had evaporated as quickly as it had come. He was kind-hearted and spirited and in for the good of everyone. His Lordship's approval had meant the world to him but he was becoming short-tempered today. He couldn't name a reason if he tried – which he had done once Sybil had given him a soft kiss on the cheek as if to say 'Good, stay calm. I'm here, I love you and we don't want to frighten anyone.' In fact now, in the room they had in the Grantham Arms, he was just coming to realise why. Because he was nervous. He was happy, but anxiety overwhelmed him. He'd been invited, no, practically instructed or at least asked to stay in Sybil's bedroom. Bed. By her father. He was pleased. It wasn't unusual now they were married but for it to be the specific will of her father? It was… unexpected. It sort-of put him on edge.
Tom carried both suitcases out to the motor. It was the Renault, a beautiful car that he had tended to the most. He gave it a valet – inside and out – every month if not more often but it currently looked like it needed a good spruce up. In fact, it could do with a great big spring-clean. So could the Mercedes-Benz they'd been driven to the house in originally. Come to think of it, the Rolls-Royce and all the other marvellous vehicles at the family's disposal could probably do with a nice dose of TLC. Without blowing his own trumpet, Tom thought the new chauffeur could handle the wheel almost as good as him but definitely needed a lesson on motor care. A lesson he would dictate on the short drive back to Downton.
The journey, it turned out, was too short for Tom to finish 'teaching'. His at first friendly remarks about little things, like dust or water stain on the windows quickly escalated into a heated row between him and Finley on how to properly repair a puncture. "Stop it!" Sybil screamed; her own anger building as they approached the gravel walk around the Abbey. The driveway had sped past too quickly from the boundary of trees a bare few hundred yards from the monster of a house and even less before they could cause substantial damage to any number of other things – including the Dowager on her afternoon stroll around the grounds.
As soon as the motor came to a grinding, skidded halt Sybil jumped out. She was in floods of tears. She didn't know why Tom was so mad, he'd been fine earlier, but she'd had enough. It was enraging her and the result of it had almost killed granny, and herself. She raced over to her grandmother to make sure she hadn't fainted of fright at being almost hit by a speeding motor. They should really bring back speed limits on those things. They should have done a while ago. It would have made her rides with Tom longer. Tom.
After assessing the situation, making sure everyone was alright and being firmly instructed by the woman who came a close second to her in the 'Most determined Lady of Downton' category not to tell anyone that she'd nearly become road-kill she sauntered, still red-eyed from her burst of emotion, towards Tom. She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, but his arms would do. Whatever had possessed him to be so mad had clearly left him and he was now just caring. Mr Finley took their cases and followed them to the house, where he ruefully apologised on the main doorstep before ashamedly, but briskly, walked round to the chauffeur's cottage.
"He shouldn't need to apologise." Said Sybil, saddened that he had and still in a close embrace with Tom.
"I know." He said, guilty that Finley had done but mostly annoyed with himself. "Come on. Let's go to bed." He proposed, with that same worn-out tone.
"Let's." Sybil agreed, a little perkier.