Author's Note: "Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." –Oliver Goldsmith

Disclaimer: I'm not even a custodian, my dears, let alone an owner. These characters and their settings are the work of others. I hope I do not offend with my homage.

"Have you been given permission to attend the officer's 'concert' this afternoon, Branson?"

"Yes, your ladyship. I'm looking forward to it."

"I gather you and my son have retrieved his estimable, if halt, former gentleman's personal gentleman from the wilds of Kirkbymoorside."

"That's right, your ladyship." Branson smiled at her description, but felt moved to defend his friend: "You yourself walk with a stick, milady; I would think you would be the first to see that unrestricted mobility isn't all that important in the calculation of real worth."

"Oh, I am," the Dowager assured him. "Besides, doesn't Bates act as a sort of second in command to Carson?"

"Yes, milady, and Mr. Carson is very glad Mr. Bates is back."

"I daresay. Well, perhaps Bates affects a walking stick for the same reason I do at that."

Branson grinned. "And what reason is that, your ladyship?"

"To ensure impertinent young servants mind their manners."

On the way home, the Dowager addressed him again: "Branson?"

"Yes, your ladyship?"

"Were you aware that William and Mr. Crawley had been missing?"

"Of course, milady."

"Well, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me?"

Branson blinked. "Do you mean to say you didn't know, milady?"

"No, I only found out a few minutes before they walked into the library and started singing."

Branson actually looked back at her over his shoulder in surprise. "I thought you knew everything, milady." Maybe he would be able to keep his secret from her, after all. Praise Jesus.

Fortunately, the Dowager was not thinking about Branson and any secrets the chauffeur might have. "Perhaps it's just as well," she concluded after a moment's reflection. "This way I was spared the necessity of worrying, since they're already back safe."

'Yes,' Branson thought, 'What you don't know, won't hurt either of us… I hope.'

Of course, after Amiens they weren't so lucky. This time Mr. Matthew and William weren't missing, and weren't all right. Especially William. And the person whose restricted mobility was an issue in calculating his real worth was Mr. Matthew.

Branson thought of his own William and the letters Will (called Liam by everyone but Tom) had him sent him from the Dardanelles. 'Dear Tom,' his older half-brother had written, 'This place where we're fighting used to be called the Hellespont, and if you want my opinion Hades is still a good name for it.' It was a wonder all the men at the front weren't dead, really. And what was it all for? Blessed Virgin, please let it all be for something.

The Dowager arranged for William to be brought back to Downton. Daisy had initially told Branson that Dr. Clarkson wouldn't allow it, but cane or no cane, in any competition between those two, Branson's money was on the Dowager. Indeed, in a competition between the Dowager and anybody…

And then the war was over, and one more competition between the Dowager and Mrs. Crawley ended happily with Mrs. Crawley deciding to devote herself to the war refugees, so that Downton Abbey could return to being a decadent display of the obscene wealth of the upper classes. And Sybil had still not given him an answer. Then Mr. Matthew planted his feet firmly on the road to recovery, and she did give him an answer, and it was that she too wished to make a journey: with him. So the two of them started out, but then her sisters brought them back. And miraculously, the Dowager never found out about any of it.

And somehow, it was only when he and Sybil were standing in the Drawing Room, telling her family that they were in love and planned to make their lives together, that he realized he would not be allowed to say goodbye.

When Branson walked into the drawing room that evening, it can't honestly be said that Violet thought anything except, 'What is Branson doing out of uniform and in the drawing room?' But her immediate thought was that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation, such as 'his mother must be ill and he wishes to go immediately to her side, but both Lord Grantham and Carson are in the Drawing Room, so he's come in to secure permission to leave.' Or something. And it was clear that Robert thought so, too, because he looked at the boy, and asked, "Yes?" in a tone that suggested he too trusted Branson would have an acceptable excuse for having walked in unannounced.

But then the boy looked at her and said 'I'm here.' And Violet had time to think, 'but why?' Before Sybil rose, and Violet knew why.

It was Branson. Branson was the secret, unsuitable beau. And she knew he wouldn't be talked out of it. Because he had told her so, 'It would take more than a frown and a few feathers to make me take any action I hadn't freely chosen for myself…. And once I had so chosen, it would take more than the disapproval of a parent to stop me.'

Author's Chapter End Note: Are you thinking something right now? If it can be told, please put it in that box you see right there. Thank you. :D