Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey or any of its characters. Julian Fellowes would likely be very scandalized by my ideas for the show.

So I decided to break this last chapter up to make this fic a baker's dozen. One more chapter then I'll have to move onto something else. I have a couple of small ideas, but nothing concrete yet.

Thanks to everyone for the great feedback! You continue to make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Chapter 12

This time he knew she would come. He was merely waiting for her to make an appearance at his cottage. And he was ready.

Lord Granthem's announcement should not have been a surprise. Tensions between England and Germany had run exceptionally high the last couple of years and definitely these past few weeks.

But a war? It was shocking. Frightening. Terrible. Nothing could have prepared them for that.

At the moment of his lordship's announcement, Tom had been making his way back to the kitchen, out of sight of the party. But when the music stopped, the conversation halted, he knew that something was happening. Something important.

He regretted that he wasn't at her side. He noticed that Mary was there. He desperately wanted to comfort her and for her to comfort him. Their country was now at war and nothing was certain anymore. Would he fight? What role would he have in this war? How would the war affect his life? His position at Downton Abbey? Would he go back to Ireland? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

He had spent the afternoon thinking, contemplating, arguing with himself over the answers. And he could come up with was one answer.

Sybil, she was the answer, the solution to everything. He couldn't deny it any more. He didn't want to deny it any more. He loved her, needed her, wanted to be with her always. If the declaration of war did nothing else, it showed him the error of his own stupid behavior. How could he have denied her the words she needed? She had gave and gave and gave, with nothing but "thank you"s and "I know"s in return.

A knock on the door signaled her arrival and he opened the door to see her in much the same state as her first night here-worried, disheveled, and utterly beautiful.

"I came as soon as I could get away. Can you believe it? A war? Standing there it was like being in a nightmare. One from which you desperately hope to wake" she said, her arms thrown around his neck, her face buried in his shirt.

"I know. And I don't like it one bit," he replied. Her touch, her body snug against his was like a balm to his soul. There was so much uncertainty, the promise of so much destruction. But here, now, everything was all right, they were together.

Drawing her further into the cottage, he placed on the same chair as before. He had been tempted to acquire another one since her first visit, but knew that it might cause too much curiosity among the servants. Why would he need another chair if not for visitors? And some might guess the identity of the visitor.

So he knelt beside the chair, their hands still joined. He tried to stop the tremble of his hands as he began to speak, "Sybil, I've been a fool."

"How? Oh tell me you didn't sign up already. Seriously, I won't let you go. You can't. You mustn't. I'll grab your leg and bodily prevent you—"

He would have laughed if he weren't so nervous, "No, nothing like that. We've only been at war for the afternoon; I could not have signed up already. Besides, I don't know what I'll do anyways. But that's not the point."

"Well, what is it? What have you been foolish about? You aren't breaking this off—"

"I love you," he said, his tender voice cutting her off, "and I've been a fool not to say it until now. I love everything about you. Your convictions. Your voice. Your hair. I love the bold way you speak. I love your salacious thoughts. I love you for all of the things you are and all of the things you are not. I can't believe I kept this in for so long. I knew long ago that I loved you, but I had this misplaced idea that if I said it, it would give you the power. At first I thought you were merely toying with me, most young ladies don't fall in love with chauffeurs. I thought that I had to keep something back to make you want to be with me. I wanted so badly to stay away, to protect myself, but it was impossible. As your love grew, blossomed, so too did mine. You are genuine, loyal, and not fickle at all. By denying you my love, it only made you try harder to show me your love. Not saying it, it was like a festering wound. There was no pleasure, only pain for us both. I need you to know, I want you to know how much I love you. And I'll say it as many times as possible to make you believe me. Please forgive me for being an idiot. I love you more than my own life."

Her eyes were wide, teary and her mouth was slightly agape, but no words came out. It appeared that Sybil was finally speechless.

Finally after a long pause, she whispered, "You love me?"

"More than anything. I love you." Then he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. It was magical. It was like their first kiss. Pure. Passionate. And completely irresistible. His tongue swept inside her mouth as their lips mated.

Before he could be pulled down the dark tunnel of desire and love, he pulled away to whisper, "Wait, there's something else."

Taking a deep breath, he reached in his side pocket and removed a small gold band. It wasn't shiny or large or adorned with jewels, but it made Sybil gasp.

"This was my ma's. After my da died she gave it to me, told me to give it to someone I loved in the future. Someone who challenged me. Someone who would support me in all my big dreams. Someone who made me feel special, loved. And someone whom I could all of the same things for. And well, that's you. With all that's going on around us, there's only one thing that's certain and that's our love. I don't want to waste another minute thinking or dreaming about a future between us. I want to make it happen. I know it's unfair of me to ask. I'm only a chauffer; I have nothing to offer you, no money, and no title. Not even a proper ring that I bought myself. But I love you and I will always love you. I promise to support you, to listen to you, to love you, to be all that you need. And I will work hard for you, for us, to make both of our dreams come true. We don't have to get married right away. But I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Again, she was struck speechless. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took the delicate band and placed it on her hand. "Yes, yes, yes. I will marry you".

His face broke into a large smile and his eyes were a bit watery but he had to ask. He needed to make sure she knew what she was getting into. "Are you sure? Our marriage won't be easy. And we won't have any of the things you're used to. Hell, your family will likely disown you. You could be seen as an embarrassment, our children unacknowledged. Are you ready for all of that? Are you sure that you can handle those things?"

"I want to marry you. I know what a life with you will mean. Hard work for us both, but I'm tired of being a lady. Tired of days spent in endless boredom doing nothing. That life might be easier in some ways, but it has its hardships. Idleness when I want activity. Prestige and position when I want only you. Whatever happens with the war and my family, I will marry you. "

Her lips crashed into his, sealing her promise, sealing their engagement.

FINIS

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