A/N: First of all, thanks to everyone who is following this story, despite my awful track record at updating it :-) This chapter is well overdue. In fact this is so overdue, I suspect anyone who is reading this has forgotten what happened in the last chapter ! So here is a quick recap. Tom did not return home after a visit to Dublin. Sybil, at home in Manchester with their daughters, has no idea what has happened to him. After trying the paper, she is sure something bad has happened and resorts to asking her father to help and travels to Downton on her own with the two children rather than wait at home. Robert calls in a favour with a member of the Senate and they find out that Tom has been arrested for taking part in the burning of the home of one of Ireland's landed gentry.
We pick up the next morning...
She slept like the dead that night, the mindless, dreamless sleep of the physically exhausted and mentally drained. When she drifted into consciousness early the next morning her mind stumbled over her whereabouts, leaving her body in limbo until she remembered where she was and why she was here. Anna came in bringing tea, drawing the curtains to let in the grey half-light.
"Can I get you some breakfast, Lady Sybil ?"
'Just some toast, please, Anna. I'm not quite ready to face my father yet."
"I'm sure his Lordship is just as concerned as we all are," Anna assured her.
"I wish I I had your faith in that."
Anna gave her a small smile and a nod, then stopped, hand on the door handle.
"We're all fond of Mr Branson downstairs, milady. We - that is, the staff - are all hoping he comes home soon."
Anna's simple act of generosity almost undid her.
"Thank you," she whispered, "that's very kind of you all."
Anna slipped out of the door and Sybil buried her head in her hands.
After breakfast, she and her mother visited the nursery, now loud and boisterous with the arrival of two more occupants. She didn't see her father until he appeared after taking Isis for a walk. He was businesslike and matter-of-fact.
"I'm sorry, Sybil, but I haven't heard anything yet. Dermot Mayo will call as soon as he had something to tell us. It's early days yet. But rest assured he'll do what he can."
She watched him disappear down the corridor to change and looked around the high, open expanse of the gallery. It suddenly seemed so big and empty, she wondered if she hadn't made a mistake in coming. All she could do here was wait.
The telephone call came at around midday. She'd taken sanctuary in the nursery again on the pretext of giving the children their lunch. She was in the middle of wiping Aoife's messy chin when there was a hurried knock on the door and Jimmy burst in.
"Milady, his lordship has just taken a call from Ireland. He's in the library. He sent me to find you."
Sybil hurriedly put down the cloth she was holding and jumped up.
"I'll come with you right away. Nanny, please make sure Niamh finishes her lunch. Listen, darlings, Mummy has to go downstairs and talk to Grandpapa. I will be back soon…"
She passed Jimmy as he held open the door for her, then ran down the stairs ahead of him, meeting her mother at the library door.
"Papa has news, " Cora said. "You'd better come in and sit down."
When her father relayed to her the information he had received from Lord Mayo, Sybil was unable to think.
"I don't understand," she said again. "I don't understand what he was doing there. There must have been some sort of mistake…."
Robert, upset and disgusted with his son-in-law for making him do this to his daughter, was in no mood for mincing his words.
"There's no mistake, Sybil. He was there, although thankfully he wasn't armed. If he had been, he'd likely be heading for a firing squad, the way things are over there at the moment. "
Sybil blanched.
"Lord Mayo managed to convince the authorities he wasn't taking an active role."
"Is he alright ?" Mary asked.
"He's obviously fit enough to travel. They're putting him on the afternoon boat."
"I'll go and meet him."
"Sybil," her mother said, "The boat doesn't dock until nine. It's a two hour drive each way. You had a difficult journey yesterday and another late night will make everything harder to cope with. We'll send Tom a telegram and Pratt can go and meet the boat," she said, ignoring Robert's raised eyebrows.
"But -"
"Mama is right," Mary said, "You don't know what he's been through. Save your strength for when he gets back."
In truth, Sybil was grateful to them for making it easy for her not to go. Her automatic reaction was to want to see him as soon as possible, but as the news sank in, her feelings began to unravel. Her initial relief that they'd found him had been replaced by bewilderment as she tried and failed to make sense of it, mentally shuffling the details like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, willing them to fit. As the afternoon wore on, she clung to the idea that there was some mistake, some misinterpretation of the facts that had placed Tom unwittingly at the scene, whilst fear of the exact opposite crept around the edges of her consciousness. By dinnertime, when she knew he would be docking and would soon be on the way back to Downton, she was almost as fearful of seeing him as she had been of not.
After dinner she abandoned her family to the drawing room and went instead in the small library, with only the light of a single lamp. She didn't even pretend to read, but sat in the chair by the window and waited. The sound of tyres on the gravel made her shoot out of her chair and hurry towards the window. It was the Daimler.
She hurried into the saloon to find Carson about to open the door. A weary looking figure slipped into the hall, pulling off his hat as he did so. Sybil could feel every nerve in her body as she took in the fact that he was still in one piece. He looked around, and when he saw her, it was as if he couldn't cross the saloon quick enough, wrenching open the inner doors and holding out his arms. Instinct propelled her forward, letting him pull her in to an embrace.
He was a mess. There was an inkstain of a bruise on one cheek surrounding an ugly black cut, already turning an unnatural looking yellow around the edges. His hair was flattened into greasy sheets where he had rammed his hat down over his head and he smelt sour and stale. He was unshaven, his three day old beard scratching at the skin of her forehead.
"Sybil…oh my darling," his voice was rough, barely there. "Oh God, I thought I'd never see you again."
He took her face in his hands, smoothing her cheeks with grubby thumbs, before kissing her. It was tentative, as if he expected her to disappear back into his imagination the moment his lips touched hers. She kissed backed more forcefully, never minding his bitter breath, only wanting to feel the reassurance of his warmth. Her arms had strayed to his shoulders when her father's cough broke them apart.
Robert's face was unreadable as he took in the state of his son-in-law. Luckily Matthew was more forthcoming.
"Good God, Tom, what did they do to you !"
"It's not as bad as it looks."
"I'll go and find you some of Matthew's clothes. Carson, please send Moseley up." Mary was already on her way upstairs.
"And ask Mrs Patmore to find him something to eat," added Cora. "We're so relieved to see you, Tom."
He gave her a small smile.
"You were lucky," said Robert, making no attempt to hide his disapproval.
Tom nodded.
"I know. Thank you, Lord Grantham. I know I owe you my freedom, and I'm grateful for it."
The innocence of Tom's sincerity was the just about the last thing Robert could stomach at the moment. He turned away as if he'd witnessed something unpleasant.
"Don't thank me. Thank Sybil and Cora. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to bed."
He left the rest of the family to welcome the prodigal home. Tom turned back to his wife.
"Sybil, darling, I'm so sorry."
"You need a bath," said Sybil, avoiding his eye, "and your face needs looking at. I'll go and draw you one."
"Are the girls in the nursery ?" She nodded.
He turned to the stairs, ready to run up them two at a time to see his children when Sybil stopped him.
"Wait ! You can't see them in that state !"
He turned, stricken by her tone.
"What ?"
"You'll upset them if they see you like that."
"Please, I won't wake them - I'll just look in. I just - I need to see them."
He looked so desperate that she relented.
"All right. But be quiet."
He nodded, then turned and made his way up the stairs to the nursery. He was still in the doorway, looking at the two little girls safe in their beds, fast asleep in their innocence and ignorance, when Sybil came to tell him she'd run him a bath.
"Niamh missed you," she said, leaning on the wall beside him. "She kept asking me where you were."
His forehead creased at that, his face taking on a pinched look.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."
But she avoided his gaze again, instead reaching in front of him to carefully pull the nursery door to, then letting her hand rest momentarily on his chest.
"Your bath is getting cold."
"Sybil…."
"No. Not now. I can't think straight right now."
She turned and walked back along the corridor to their room. He watched her go, unwilling to push her. At the turn of the corridor she turned and gave him a fleeting smile.
"But I'm glad you're home."
While he was in the bath he could hear her moving around in the bedroom, small, domestic sounds that were not enough to drown out the clamour of the last few days ; the roar and crack of the flames that engulfed the house, the confusion when the soldiers raided them and the angry, perfidious shouts of the prison. He closed his eyes and his mouth and disappeared beneath the warm water, closing his ears off to everything. He could have stayed safely cocooned underwater, but the need to breath forced him back to the surface, where he could hear Sybil thanking the maid who had brought him something to eat.
He emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his body flushed from the heat of the bath. A pair of Matthew's pyjamas lay on the bed, along with one of his dressing gowns and his clothes had disappeared. Sybil was standing by the dressing table with what he knew to be the house's first aid box, rummaging to find some iodine and cotton wool. She looked up and he saw her eyes widen at the bruising on his ribs.
He held her gaze for a second before giving his head a little shake, not wanting to talk about it.
"Let me see…."
"No ! No, its just a bit of bruising. It's fine."
"Does it hurt ?"
"No."
She obviously didn't believe him, but didn't press the matter.
"Get dressed and I'll look at your face." It was an order.
He nodded mutely and started to slowly pull on the pyjamas that lay on the bed. They were too long for him, the arms of the jacket hanging down over his hands. It gave him a boyish look that made what had just happened to him seem improbable. She motioned for him to sit on the bed and stood in front of him with a wad of cotton wool and a bottle of iodine, carefully cleaning the cut on his cheek. The lamplight threw shadows on her face, making her eyes and cheeks look hollow and giving her face a sharpness he wasn't accustomed to. The iodine stung and he winced.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "but its going to hurt."
He held himself still, his jaw tightly gritted as he anticipated the next sting.
"What were you doing there ?"
He didn't answer for a while, instead screwing up his face as she dabbed at his wound. When she stopped, he relaxed and sighed.
"It was an opportunity. To see it for myself."
His eyes flickered up to her face, but she was concentrating on her task and she remained impassive, the nurse in her taking over.
"How did you even know it was going to happen ?"
"One of Lynch's aides told me. Asked me if I wanted to come along."
"Liam Lynch ?"
Her eyes widened with fear and she stopped what she was doing. Liam Lynch, chief-of-staff of the anti-treaty IRA, was a dangerous man to know. He nodded.
"I didn't know you had contacts close to Lynch."
There was an awkward silence.
"But then it seems there's a lot you haven't told me," she said, replacing the top on the bottle of iodine and turning back to the dressing table.
"Sybil - "
"I didn't know where you were, Tom. You just didn't come home. I was thinking all sorts of things…..". Her voice choked, and she wiped her nose hastily with the back of her hand. He was up in a shot and had gathered her into his arms and let her sob into his pyjama jacket.
"It's alright, it's alright - I'm home now. Safe and sound. No harm done."
"No harm done ! Are you joking, Tom ? Look at your face !" She pulled away and looked up at him.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. What did they do to you ?"
He gathered her back to him and held her tight, shaking his head.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do. You owe me that at least, Tom. You disappear for three days and come back black and blue. I've a right to know what happened to you."
He was silent.
"Where did they take you ? Kilmainham ?"
He shook his head.
"They split us up - they put some of us in Mountjoy. I'm not sure what happened to the others."
"Who were they ? These others ?"
"Lynch's men. I'd never seen any of them before."
"How long have you been mixed up with Lynch ?"
He frowned, irritated, and released her from his embrace.
"I'm not mixed up with Lynch. One of his aides is a friend of one of my cousins. I keep in contact with him, that's all."
"You never told me."
Tom shrugged helplessly.
"There never was any need to tell you. He was a source. That's it. I've hardly ever seen him."
"What else haven't you told me about ?"
"Nothing ! Honestly, Sybil, I don't know why I didn't tell you. I suppose I didn't think it was important."
"You didn't tell me about Clonard."
"I couldn't. They made me promise to tell no one."
She looked up at him incredulously.
"What ? Even me ? Why ? Don't you trust me ?"
He frowned, shaking his head at her misunderstanding.
"No, it wasn't that. It was safer if you didn't know. If anyone came asking questions, you wouldn't have anything to tell them. They'd leave you alone."
"But I had no idea where you were !"
"Look - if the police hadn't found out, I'd have been on the last boat and no-one would be any the wiser."
'But they did find out."
"I didn't think -" he pleaded.
"No - that's just it Tom - you don't think ! You never think ! You just charge on with no thought for the consequences….they're executing republicans now, for crying out loud ! You put your life, our lives on the line for….for what ? They could have…" She couldn't go on.
He closed his eyes, her words conjuring up a vision of the claustrophobic bleakness of the prison cell and the thud of gaoler's boots.
"I wasn't armed."
"Are you so sure that would have made a difference in the end ? They still could have locked you up and thrown away the key and if it wasn't for Papa, I would have had no idea…." She was breathing more rapidly now, giving her words no space.
"I still don't understand why, Tom. You hate this war..."
He glanced up at her, unsure she was going to like what he was going to say.
"I've spent the last two years watching it all from the sidelines. I wanted to be involved. It was a chance to be part of it, instead of just writing about it second hand."
"By burning down someone's house ?"
"I didn't think of it like that. Lord Glenavy sits in the senate, but he's no friend of the Free State. He's changed his colours more times than I can count in the last few years. I agreed with Lynch on that. But seeing the whole family turned out of their home…" he paused, remembering the small, vulnerable huddle of family and staff standing on the lawn in their dressing gowns, illuminated by the flames from the house. "it…it wasn't what I thought it would be."
"What did you think it would be ?"
He raised his hands, a defeated gesture
"Retribution ? Rebellion ? God, I don't even know any more….."
"You did this out of vindictiveness ?
"No ! Look, I don't expect you to understand -"
Her eyes flew wide .
"How dare you ! How dare you say that to me when you've kept me in the dark ! How can I understand when you don't trust me enough to tell me what's going on !"
"I told you - I kept quiet to keep you safe ! And I didn't want you to worry when Niamh was ill…" he stopped abruptly.
Sybil's head whipped up and she looked at him in shock.
"That was three weeks ago," she whispered. "You knew ! You knew before you even went to Dublin !"
"Sybil -"
"You knew all that time that you were going to do this and you didn't tell me !"
"I wasn't expecting to be picked up ! Everything was planned. Someone betrayed us. If they hadn't, I would have been on the boat and you would never have known !"
"And that's supposed to make things better ! My husband becomes an arsonist and I don't even know about it ?"
"Now you're exaggerating - I'm not an arsonist ! I never laid a hand on anyone or anything while I was there !"
"But you were there !"
He had no answer to that, closing his eyes and shifting under gaze uncomfortably.
"Look, if I could take it back, Sybil, I would. God knows, I'm not proud of what I've done…"
"It's too late."
"What ?" A look of sheer panic crossed his face. "Please, love, - "
He reached out for her, but she stepped away from him, her hands shaking a little as she grasped behind her for the chair.
"Don't call me that," she rasped, her voice gravelly with emotion.
They stared at each other for a moment, then his face softened into an apology as took a step towards her
'Look, I'm sorry…."
His hand moved to her arm, but she jerked it away with a force he wasn't expecting. Momentarily stunned, he blinked before turning back to the bed, picking up the dressing gown. Sybil turned away from him, her trembling fingers starting to fumble with the buttons of her dress. She let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it before lowering herself into the chair by her dressing table.
"Do you want me to go and sleep somewhere else tonight ?" he said stiffly.
"And tell everyone in this house we're estranged ? I don't think so. We've given them enough to talk about until Christmas as it is."
She picked up her brush and dragged it through her hair in harsh, rapid strokes, glad of the pain. He said nothing, instead drawing back the blankets and slipping into bed. He tried to catch her eye in the mirror, but her head was resolutely down, fiddling with some jewellery. He turned out the bedside lamp. Eventually she got up and slipped out of her underwear and into her nightgown, then climbed wordlessly into bed and immediately turned her back to him. She reached over to turn out her light and they were plunged into darkness and silence.
He lay on his back, staring as the ceiling came into relief as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The mattress moved as she shifted slightly, burrowing down under the blankets and drawing herself up into a ball. All he could see of her was was a mass of curly brown hair above the eiderdown.
"They had a little girl."
He felt her stiffen, a response of sorts.
"She was about the same age as Niamh. Her mother was carrying her, but she dropped her doll in the rush to get out. She was crying for it, but the house was already in flames." His voice cracked a little. "I just kept thinking of Niamh, of how upset she would be if we had to leave everything behind….".
He heard her move under the blankets, her breathing paused.
"I thought it would feel right. His kind have chased mine out of their homes for centuries, so I thought it would feel like some sort of justice. But all I could think of was their little girl and our little girl…and I felt sorry for it, for what we'd done."
She didn't say anything, but her stillness told him she had heard every word he had said.
"And now…..Please tell me I haven't ruined everything between us," he said, a little desperately. "I didn't mean for this to happen….. I love you so much, Sybil, I -"
"I know. I know," she said, cutting him off.
He lay in the dark waiting for her to say something else, but she didn't. He thought about touching her, but the tension that radiated from her pushed his hand back to his side. Eventually he turned over and stared dejectedly at the wallpaper of the other side of the room, the pattern only faintly visible as regular patches of light and shade. And so side by side, but miles apart, they each fell into an uneasy slumber.
I promise I'll not leave it as long before part III !
