It's an uphill climb from here on for Sybil and Branson. Reviews and comments are welcome and appreciated. Enjoy!

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 14 – The Tempest

"Sybil, Sybil, wake up, my dear, …" a woman's voice said.

"Don't let…no…" Sybil cried out in her sleep.

"Wake up," the voice said again, she felt a hand jostle her arm.

And slowly she began to rouse out of her dream to the sound of her Aunt Rosamund's voice.

"My dear, you were having a bad dream of some sort."

"Where…, when did I get home, what time in the morning is it?" she wiped her eyes, then took a deep breath.

"You've been asleep all day and it's early evening. You don't look well. I've sent Thornton for Dr. Crawford."

"I dreamt the water was calm, I was floating peacefully, then it turned black and stormy, he let go and I drifted away," she said to herself and her aunt, who was confused by her niece's delirium. "Was Boulogne a dream? Arthur, Thomas, Tom…?" she mumbled further. "Ewww," she moaned becoming aware of her throbbing head and overall achiness when she tried to sit up.

"You came back from your month away last night and went straight to bed. You've been asleep since then. Who is it are you asking for?"

"Arthur, I mean Dr. McNeil, Thomas was our footman, Tom…" she stopped there.

"Why on earth would you be dreaming about one of the staff at Downton? I don't like this you are terribly confused, you look feverish, I hope Dr. Crawford comes soon."

"I will be fine, I think the diagnosis will be that I am just tired. It was the last few days. I haven't slept. I was taking care of soldiers with influenza," she said—which was all true—she had barely slept since having been reunited with Branson earlier in the week.

"Taking care of who with what, no wonder you are sick. That settles it Sybil. You are staying in bed tomorrow and will do for a change what we tell you," Rosamund stated firmly.

"I can't stay in bed. I have to catch up with my classes," she moved to get out of bed, but almost fainted and had to sit back down. "Dr. McNeil promised to tutor me, to help me with what I missed."

"Well, this Dr. McNeil and all that work will just have to wait."

Dr. Crawford came shortly after wards. His diagnosis was indeed a mild case of exhaustion and his prescription was a days rest. He took Rosamund aside and said, "she is lucky its not influenza. Hear it's going round the trenches wiping out our boys like flies—rather nasty business. Not to worry though she'll be fine. She's made of stern stuff, especially if she's training to become one of us—not a typical occupation for a young woman, don't you know?"

Later Mrs. Welkins sent up some broth, which Sybil finished and went back to sleep. As she drifted in and out of sleep, her mind turned over the past week's events—Branson's illness, their night in the auberge, the proposal, the awakening of her desire—it all seemed unreal, as if she had lived one of her daydreams.

Sybil started back to classes and met with Dr. McNeil in his office three times a week after he had finished his rounds. She was a natural at understanding human physiology the doctor told her. He was duly impressed by her analytical abilities and saw great promise in the young medical student.

"Thank you for taking time to tutor me on this material. After two weeks I am almost caught up with the other students and I'm glad I've progressed this far before Christmas leave," she told the doctor as she closed her book and glanced around his cluttered office filled with volumes of books, medical apparatuses, and papers piled on all surfaces.

"Sybil you are a quick study. You have a knack for medicine and I am pleased you were willing to pursue this route."

"It wasn't easy, my parents were surprised by the decision. They resisted at first, but I'm known to be a pretty stubborn. But now I am sure they are proud of my choice. I like the challenge of medicine, but more than anything the possibilities of what medicine can do to help people."

"Sad to say that many of my male colleagues still feel there is no place for the fairer sex in the wards except in a nurse's uniform. But a few courageous women like yourself are blazing new trails, opening new avenues for women in field."

"Well I am one for women's rights. We will get the vote soon."

"Indeed you will. And perhaps there is something else that would make your parents proud of you and allow you to continue with your quest to open up the medical fields to more women. I am expanding with my research on wound treatment, especially the use of antiseptics and will be in need of an assistant. You were an invaluable member of our team on our trip to Boulogne and I think we work well together. I would like to put your name forward if you would be interested? The work would commence next summer and it would count as part of your training. We could use more women on the research side."

Sybil was taken by surprise by the doctor's generous offer and it was great complement to be asked to join a research team, "I have the utmost respect for you and your work Dr. McNeil. Thank you, for asking me I am indeed honored. Might I think it over and give you a response soon?"

"Yes of course, please take all the time you need. The only part of the plan that I do not know yet, is where we would be based—could be here in London, perhaps Edinburgh, Oxford was interested—it all depends on where I can get a teaching position."

"Dr. McNeil this would be a big step for me in my medical career. Thank you so very much for everything. Merry Christmas," she said reaching out to shake his hand.

"Please no need for formalities, we are friends are we not, you may call me Arthur. Enjoy the holidays with your family and get home safely there is a storm brewing," he said holding her hand warmly with both of his.

Sybil left the doctor's office and walked out into the blustery early evening. The wind howled fiercely and rain pounded the streets of London. The winter's storm increased in intensity as she made her way home. Despite the severity of the weather, she was deep in thought as she had so much to consider. Her mind raced through all of the implications of Dr. McNeil's extraordinary offer. After all this decision would now not only affect her, but also Branson. Their interlude in Boulogne had been so precious that neither would allow the disruptions of war, family, duty, or livelihood to intrude into their perfectly crafted sanctuary. But now the realities of everyday life, what it would mean to plan a future together began to weigh heavily on her mind. There would be so many obstacles on all sides to their marriage she didn't know where to turn in the labyrinth of their current lives. She would have to write him tonight. By the time she made it to Belgrave Square the rain came down in an almost horizontal direction assaulting her umbrella at every step.

"Good evening, milady," Mr. Thornton greeted her as she shook off the water in the vestibule, "the storm is getting quite bad, your aunt was a bit worried. She thought she should have sent Pritchard for you."

"I made it home in one piece, but will need to dry off before dinner."

"Yes milady, Lady Grantham telephoned and asked that you call her as soon as you returned."

"Thank you, Thornton. I will do so before dinner."

Sybil went upstairs to her room to change and when she returned to the main hall she telephoned her mother "Mr. Carson. Good evening it is Lady Sybil. I am calling to speak to Mama…Yes, thank you."

"Mama you are well? How is everyone at Downton? Papa?" Sybil asked Cora, the line was faint but she could her mother's comforting voice.

"Yes, we are all fine. And your father will be here for Christmas. I received your letter saying you arrived safely from Boulogne. I wanted to hear your voice before you and Rosamond came up for Christmas."

"Its good to be home and I am back in classes." Neither Sybil nor her aunt had told Cora about her illness upon return. Rosamond, like her niece, wanted to avoid the wrath of her brother and the scathing disapproval of her sister-in-law.

"I wanted to share the good news. Your father will be discharged from duty. At the end of January. He will be home in time for Edith's wedding. Isn't that wonderful news?"

"You said that Papa is coming home? Yes that is good news. Thank you for letting me know."

"And we did have some bad news from downstairs. About one of the boys at the Front" Cora added.

Sybil's heart sank instantly. "What has happened?" she asked terrified of what her mother would say next.

"I am sorry to say that Thomas has died. It was apparently a sickness—influenza I believe."

"Did you say Thomas? That can't be. I just saw him a month ago in Boulogne. He was fine," she told her mother.

"Apparently it happened very quickly. I will give the details when you come home. Well, I don't want to keep you. We will see you and your aunt soon. Good-bye."

"Yes, goodnight Mama."

Sybil then joined her aunt in the dining room.

After their meal Sybil politely excused herself from tea in the drawing room and went instead to the library, telling her aunt she had a letter she wished to write. She sat near the fire sipping a glass of claret that Thornton had brought in for her. As the sounds of the fierce rain battered the windows, she thought about Thomas and their chance meeting that changed the course of her life. He was full of promise and now gone, killed by the same illness that almost took Branson. She pondered how much of what happened in one's life was a question of fate and how much was in one's control.

"Claret rather than tea Sybil, are you alright? You hardly said a word over dinner," her aunt spoke softly as she entered the room and sat down next to her niece.

"I am sorry I didn't mean to be sullen in my mood this evening. Along with the news from Downton that Papa was being discharged, I also heard that Thomas, our former footman, had died of influenza contracted in this awful war. I saw him by chance in Boulogne and he did something very kind for me. The news of his death has thrown me a bit. Earlier, I also received a remarkable offer from Dr. McNeil. So much to think about." She then asked her aunt, "Life is filled with chance and choice, however do you know what to do?"

"You are a dear girl, you care so much about everyone and everything. I for one admire the choices you've made," Rosamund said trying to lift her niece's spirits.

Rosamund, who was typically reserved, opened up to her niece. "In my day when I was a young woman we had so few options. You were to be married, to have children, and to run a household. And those choices were most often made for you, not by you. Well, I rebelled and tried make my own way, much to the dismay of Mother if you could imagine. But I quickly found out that it wouldn't be easy to break the old ways."

"What do you mean?" Sybil asked her aunt to whom she had grown close in the three years she had lived at Belgrave Square. She knew her aunt could have been far stricter about her comings and going and she was grateful for the liberties she'd been accorded. Sybil was also sympathetic to the fact that since her aunt was unmarried, she was still governed in some respects by her older brother's decisions.

"Well, when I was about your age, twenty-two to be exact, I fell in love with a young officer. He was very handsome, but also very caring. He had a simple upbringing, the son of a vicar in a nearby village. Papa and Mama of course wanted me to wed the son of wealthy American who came over to find a proper English wife. But I refused the American's offer of marriage. I wanted to run off and marry the love of my life. Sadly he was killed in a fierce battle in the Boer War. He was only twenty-three when he died and I never saw him again. By then the American had found someone else. So here I am—an old maid who lives off the kindness of her brother. But I think you are doing things differently and I admire that spirit," her aunt gave her niece a hug.

"Aunt Rosamund, sometimes I feel as if nothing is in my control, that this war will never end, that things in life are about the overtake and pull me under," Sybil confessed.

"Do not worry my dear, you are strong and most importantly determined—you have my mother's tenacity in you, you'll survive and no doubt change those old ways." Her aunt stood up and left the room. Sybil with her glass in hand walked over to the desk and sat down to write her letter:

21 December 1917

Belgrave Square, London

My dearest friend,

Boulogne seems so far from here. Our day there was a beautiful dream, however brief it was. I think of it often and it gets me through the long days. I hope you made it back safely to your unit and back to your duty. I am glad that you will be managing the lorries and motorcars, rather than driving them. At least I can find some comfort that you are not directly in the trenches and some distance away from the worse fighting.

Life upon return went back to its usual routine. I am back in classes and trying to catch up with what I missed. Dr. McNeil has been tutoring me and today he made me an offer to join his research team. He was impressed with my performance in our training sessions. I am drawn to the prospect of doing laboratory work. But I also think that deep down I want to be a country doctor, to help people in their daily lives. I wanted you to let you know about his offer and find out what you think I should do. I do not yet know if I will stay in London. I could end up as far away as Edinburgh. I hope we can be married as soon as you return from the war. So this decision is also one you should share. Please write me and let me know your thoughts.

Today I had news from Downton, both good and bad. Papa will be discharged next month, which gives me hope that this war may finally be ending and you will be coming home soon. The sad news is that Thomas has died from influenza. It must have taken him quickly as I hear from various doctors that it's now becoming virulent and deadly. I think you were fortunate to have contracted an early milder strain. It is sad to see such youth lost to the fallout of war that I'm sure will be extensive once the actual fighting has ended. I am still grateful that Thomas found you and told me where you were. If by chance he and I had not crossed paths, I would have never been able to take care of you during your illness. We would have never had our wonderful day in Boulogne. I am beginning to realize how much of life is a consequence of chance as much as it is an outcome of choice. I suppose I still have a lot to learn.

When you proposed to me you told me that we would get through this together. And I believe that we will. But I am also beginning to realize the challenges we will face and they are many. I miss having you to talk to about it all.

May Christmas provide a moment of peace. Know that I love you.

Always,

Sybil

That night as Sybil drifted off to sleep the storm outside continued to rage and the recurring tempest in her dream grew fiercer.