This is it, guys! The final set of scenes wrapping up in the end of series 4 with Sybil alive. The first one mentions the infamous muddy pig scene in which Mary gets dirty (literally) with Charles Blake to save the Downton pigs. That scene ended with Mary making Blake scrambled eggs, a total Mary Sue moment in my view as I never believed Mary would know where to find anything in the kitchen let alone cook so I tried to explain that here. In the following scene, Tom and Sybil see Sarah Bunting again, and lastly, Sybil has news for Tom as they begin their new lives in Downton village in earnest. Obviously, this story could keep going and continue to follow the events of the rest of the show, but it's a natural ending for the thread that I created within the show for Tom and Sybil. Thanks to everyone who read, favorited and followed this story!

"So what did Anna say when she saw the dress?" Sybil asked, trying to get all the details of Mary's mud-filled adventure with Charles Blake and the Downton pigs, as she, her sisters and Tom walked the now worn path that led from the house to the end of the estate where the pig stye had been built.

"Honestly, she had no words," Mary said. "I don't think I've ever seen her eyes so big in shock. I told her she needn't take the time to clean it as it was obviously ruined beyond repair."

"But a small sacrifice for the sake of the estate," Edith said sardonically.

"And what of Mr. Blake?" Sybil asked, looking at Mary from the side of her eyes.

"What about him?" Mary asked, ignoring the gentle teasing in Sybil's tone.

"Well, you saved the pigs and made him breakfast—all dressed in evening wear," Sybil said. "Surely that would have thawed him out a bit."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm not interested in his … temperature."

Edith and Sybil giggled.

"Well, he might be more interested in yours now," Sybil said. "It never takes them long to decide they like you, Mary. You're not so modest as to deny it."

"You should write to grandmama," Edith said. "She'll be pleased that her cooking lesson paid dividends."

Tom, who was a step ahead of the trio of sisters, turned as he walked and asked, "What cooking lesson?"

"It's our grandmother Levinson's tradition," Mary explained. "On the night before each of us was presented, before we went to bed, she took us down to the kitchen in the London house and taught us how to scramble eggs."

"A lady never goes hungry," Sybil said in her best American accent.

"The true hero of the night is the scullery maid who left the whisk in the sink," Mary said. "Otherwise, I'd never have known where to find it."

"So you saved her too, then," Sybil said, "or she'd have gotten a scolding from Mrs. Patmore come morning."

"What did the pig man say after all this?" Edith asked.

"He had the decency to resign the post," Mary said airily.

"Would you have given him the sack?" Sybil asked, looking back and forth between Tom and Mary. "If the pigs knocked over the trough, it was only an accident."

"I think he saw it as a bad omen, and decided to cut his losses," Tom said.

"Tom disagreed, but I'd have sacked him," Mary said. "But I appreciate his not wanting to go on after an inauspicious start."

"So you'll have to find someone new?" Sybil asked, knowing the longer it took to get the pig situation settled, the longer Tom would have to stay with a job he'd already made clear he didn't want to continue in.

Tom looked over his shoulder at Mary.

"We'll see," Mary said.

As the group neared the barn, they caught the stench of the animals, which made Sybil picture, once again, her sister neck deep in mud. She laughed. "Never let it be said, Mary, that you are not willing to fight for Downton."

Mary smiled, then looked to Tom. "I hope Drew knows we're coming."

"Yes," Tom said. "I sent a note yesterday."

As they crossed the barn to the sty, Edith said, "So have the pigs recovered, do you think?"

"They look in good shape to me, after the shock of their arrival," Mary said.

Tom leaned over the fence post and they all got a good look at the animals, who were rollicking about in the mud as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you, Mr. Drew, for tending to them," Mary said, after a moment.

"So have you found a man to take over?" Drew asked.

"Not yet," Tom said.

Sybil noticed Tom and Mary exchanging glances again. Tom turned back toward Drew, and hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"First," he said slowly, "we'd like to know if you want the job."

As Drew, Tom and Mary discussed the matter for a few minutes, Sybil walked around and watched the animals walk around their small space. She now wished, she'd brought Sybbie with them on their walk—even though it was likely she'd have ended up covered in mud too.

Sybil smiled as she watched Mary, so sure of herself now. Sybil thought about how, growing up, she and her sisters were told next to nothing about how Downton was actually run, about the people whose backbreaking efforts had kept it afloat for centuries. Sybil knew she couldn't erase what Downton meant from her own past. Sybil also knew that while her daughter would never live there, Sybbie would know the place and associate it with people she loved.

But unlike her mother and aunts, Miss Sybil Branson would grow up with a clear, unvarnished understanding of the life and rules that Downton Abbey represented, of the defiance of those rules that her very life signified and of the true owners and keepers of the land and its bounty.

Her parents would see to that.

Later that week, Tom and Sybil took a drive to Skipton and talk of the pigs continued.

"Mary said Mr. Drew was settling in nicely," Sybil said.

"Well, he hasn't been on the job long," Tom said, "but I dare say, he's managed very well."

"So you'll be looking for a new agent in earnest now?" Sybil asked hopefully.

Tom smiled. "Yes, along with checking the new suppliers, part of the reason I wanted to make the trip today was to leave notice with them and with some of our other contacts, so they can keep a look out for possible candidates."

"You didn't tell me that!" Sybil said, snuggling up to him as he drove.

"You didn't ask," Tom said with a wink. "How was Sybbie when you left her at Downton?"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Isobel agreed to watch her. Apparently, the annual bazaar 'snuck up' on mama, and I didn't want to burden nanny again if mama wasn't actually going to spend any time with them. Honestly, how a woman who has absolutely nothing to do can claim that an annual event ever sneaks up on her is beyond me. But Isobel was there and said I deserved an afternoon with my husband given how much busier the hospital will keep me now that I'm head nurse."

"Well, if we can manage to get our errands done in an hour, we'll have—"

"Hang on!" Sybil sat up and pointed down the road, where a woman was standing alone next to her car, on the side of the road. "I think that's Sarah!"

"I think you're right," Tom said. He rolled just past Sarah's motor and pulled over.

Sybil turned immediately toward Sarah, as Tom stopped the car. "Is anything wrong?"

"Car's packed in," Sarah answered coming over to Sybil's side. "My friend's gone for help."

"Would you like me to have a look?" Tom said, stepping out and taking his gloves off.

"I don't want to hold you up," Sarah said.

"We're not in any hurry," Sybil said, also stepping out of the vehicle.

"Just on our way to Skipton, to see some suppliers," Tom said taking off his jacket and taking a small satchel of tools over to the bonnet of Sarah's motor.

"He likes to compare prices," Sybil said.

"How impressive," Sarah said with a smile. "I thought that when the agent was a cousin or son-in-law, he had free shooting for life and others did the work."

Tom took the cover off the engine and leaned over to look at it. "To quote her grandmother," he said, nodding toward Sybil, "You've been reading those socialist newspapers again."

Sybil and Sarah both laughed. "You two should know," Sarah said. "How's work with the platform committee going?"

"All right, I suppose," Tom said. "It's a bit of a motley crew, but they're thoughtful and well intentioned."

"Though not very organized, I'm afraid" Sybil added. "They came to the cottage last week for a meeting."

"Oh, yes," Sarah said. "Mother told me you had a full house and had to borrow some chairs."

"We did," Sybil said. "I'm sorry you couldn't come, but you didn't miss much. It took almost half an hour to wrangle them into an actual political discussion, and they were beside themselves when I asked who regularly kept the minutes."

"So now that duty falls to me," Tom said with a smirk.

"Tom also had the idea of circulating the minutes afterward among the members—a bit like a newsletter—so they could add notes and questions off of which we'd make an agenda for the next meeting. I do hope you can join us for that one—it's bound to be more productive. We'll have it next month at the cottage again. Or set up chairs in the barn if more people come and the weather holds up."

"I'll be sure to," Sarah said. She and Sybil, both standing, leaning next to the car, turned toward Tom, who had begun to take tools out of the satchel. Sarah, standing behind Sybil, leaned over to see what he was doing, and with some concern in her voice, she asked. "Is this wise?"

Tom straightened up and looked at Sybil with his brow furrowed in curiosity. "You didn't tell her?"

Sybil shrugged. "What's scandal to some is inconsequential to others."

Sarah looked back and forth between the two of them. "What is it?"

Tom smiled and walked back to the back of his motor for a blanket he kept there. "Apparently, you've heard some of our story, but not all of it. I came to Downton to be the chauffeur."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You married the chauffeur?"

Sybil giggled. "I'm afraid so. It sparked some gossip among my parents' friends, but after the initial shock there wasn't much talk in the village. Hardly anyone remembers now that Tom has been agent these last few years, so it seems silly to ever point it out to those who might not know or remember."

Sarah laughed. "You really are a very unusual and . . ."

"And what?" Sybil asked, playfully putting her hands on her hips.

"A very unusual and independent person."

Tom laughed. "You can say that again." He dropped the blanket on the ground and laid down to look beneath the motor.

"I take that as a compliment," Sybil said.

Sarah smiled. "That's precisely how I meant it."

Sybil turned and bent over to speak to Tom, who was now beneath the vehicle. "Are you going to be terribly long?"

"Not sure," he called out.

Sybil stood up again. "Might as well get comfortable," Sybil said. "He likes taking his time down there."

The two women walked around Sarah's motor and found a spot in the tall grass.

"So was he still the chauffeur when you married?" Sarah asked.

"Not quite," Sybil said with a sigh, thinking back to that time in her life. Less that four years had passed, but it seemed a lifetime. "He was chauffeur when we made our intentions known to my parents, but that was as good as his resignation. We left for Ireland not too long after and once there only waited until the bans were read before we married. He was working at one of the republican papers by then."

"Were your parents very harsh?"

"They were at first—I can't deny that. I was prepared for them to say they'd never see me again, and for a time I thought the chasm between myself and my father would always be there, but . . . well, my family is who they are, and they'll never really understand me, but they are not ones to put pride over the bonds of family, not irrevocably, not forever."

Sarah looked down for a moment, then back up at Sybil.

"Is something wrong?" Sybil asked.

"I remembered you," Sarah said. "When I first met you at my mother's house. I thought I'd seen you before, but I couldn't place where. Then later that day it came to me. You were active in the women's movement, back before the war, and you came canvassing to my parents' house once. I was at teacher's college in London at the time, so I didn't know many of the women who were active locally. Anyway, I was home for a visit, and I answered the door with my mother . . . your clothes, your accent . . . it was unmistakable who you were. I'm very glad to know that you knew your own mind then as you do now and that politics didn't turn out to be just a passing interest for you, but I remember rather resenting your presence at the time."

"Why?"

Sarah shrugged. "There we so many working women I knew in the village who truly believed in the cause of suffrage, but couldn't act because they'd no time or feared their bosses might retaliate against them. It seemed unfair that you could come tell the poor people what to think, then in a few months time be off to do the season, with no further thought or care as to what working women really struggle through in their daily lives. Obviously, you understood that better than I was willing to give you credit for."

Sybil smiled. "Because we are friends, I will admit that is not an inaccurate description of who I was back then. In fact, I became involved early in 1914, before I was presented that June, and after war was declared it was women of high rank who agreed the activism should stop. Looking back, I can see how foolish I was. What more critical backdrop is there than war to emphasize how important women's voices are."

"So you did have a summer in society. Were there no suitors to your liking?" Sarah asked in a teasing tone.

"I suppose there might have been except . . . well, the week after we returned from town, my family hosted a garden party and . . . Tom held my hand for the first time. It took years for my brain to catch up with my heart, but the latter was gone in that moment."

Sarah smiled. "You make a lovely couple. My mother loves having someone next door again, and I'm grateful to no longer have to hear her nagging about marriage and a grandchild now that you've given her a surrogate."

"She's a God send, with us both trying to have a job. Sybbie absolutely loves her."

Sarah crinkled her nose and giggled. "Why did you name her after yourself? I know it's sometimes what's done in the aristocracy, but knowing you now, I wouldn't think you would do such a thing."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I didn't—at least, it wasn't my idea."

"So how did it happen?"

"Well, for months and months we couldn't agree on anything, for a boy or a girl."

"Nothing at all?"

Sybil shook her head. "We've never disagreed on anything so thoroughly as this, which seems odd, but there you have it. There were lots of relatives we loved, but none really stood out as a namesake. On one thing we did agree and that was that it'd be nice if she had one Irish name and one English name, so I asked his mother for suggestions for the Irish side, and she mentioned Saoirse, which I adore because it's the Irish word for freedom, but when I told Tom he laughed and said his mother was having a laugh with me."

"How so?"

"That's the name of the first girl Tom ever stepped out with."

Sarah laughed. "Would it have mattered, though? It's a beautiful name."

"I didn't particularly care, but Tom was rather peeved at his mum and didn't want her getting her way, so that was out. Though I will lobby for it again, if we have another daughter.

"If only to see the look on my mother's face when you tell her."

Both women turned to look at Tom, who was walking over wiping his hands on his handkerchief. He said, gesturing to Sarah's motor, "Should be all right to get you back home, but the engine needs a bit more work. I'd be happy to look to it, if you bring it next time you visit Mrs. Bunting."

"I will," Sarah said. "Thank you so much."

Sybil held up her hand for Tom to help her up.

"But you haven't said how you chose Sybil for a name," Sarah said, gesturing for her to stay sitting.

Instead of taking Sybil's hand, Tom sat down. "We settled on an agreement whereby Sybil could choose the name if she gave birth to a boy, and I would choose, if we had a girl. We didn't think on it much again until the day came."

"It was a very difficult labor," Sybil said. "I lost consciousness shortly after I delivered, but Dr. Clarkson was able to give me something to calm my seizures and regulate my breathing, so I came out of it all right. But I was laid up in bed for weeks."

"I don't know how she did it—how any woman does, really," Tom said. "If the survival of the species depended on men being called to give so much of themselves, I dare say we'd have gone extinct long ago."

Sybil smiled. "Tom said, when I woke up that she had a fine set of lungs and an attitude that clearly showed she was her mother's daughter. No argument from me could get him to change his mind."

"But alas, I get no say in the next one," Tom said with a dramatic sigh.

Sarah laughed. "Well, she should be very proud of her name. I was named for my mother's sister who died unmarried, and now my poor mother thinks by giving me my name she also doomed me to spinsterhood."

Sybil laughed. "You have a terrific job and live on your own. I should think she'd be very proud."

"She is," Sarah said, "but she has her own traditions to cling to."

"Should we go rescue the friend, you sent off for help?" Tom asked after a moment. He moved to stand up, then gave a hand to both Sybil and Sarah.

"Oh, you needn't come along," Sarah said. "I've taken enough of your time already."

"Why don't you come for dinner tonight—you and your friend?" Sybil asked.

"Oh, I don't think so," Sarah said, moving to climb into her vehicle again.

"I wish you would," Sybil insisted.

Sarah smiled. "If you didn't live so near my mother, perhaps, but . . . well, I couldn't come and not see her, and I'm not sure if I want to subject, um, him to that just yet.

Sybil raised her eyebrows. "Well, then, you'll come to tea tomorrow. Just you, and you'll answer all my questions on the matter. I'll not take no for answer."

Sarah laughed as she pulled on her gloves. "All right, but he is just a friend."

Sybil leaned on the door to whisper, "The best ones always start out that way.

On the morning of the town bazaar, Tom and Sybbie left early for the big house, so Tom could help with the set up and Sybbie could enjoy some time with her cousin George before the event began later in the morning. Sybil was working a morning shift and would be meeting them in the early afternoon once the event was underway.

With most of the town looking forward to the event, the hospital was very quiet. As she walked through the ward checking in on supplies and the other nurses on duty, Sybil couldn't help but think how far she had come since she first began working here as a volunteer during the war. When she and Tom had left for Ireland, she hadn't imagined ever coming back to work here, but they'd had to play the hand they'd been dealt and now that she was here, she couldn't help but feel proud.

The village of Downton had been as important a part of her childhood and identity as the abbey itself. There was much she hated about the life she had been brought up in, but she'd always loved the village and the kind, hardworking people who had made it such a warm place to have grown up. She didn't know how much longer they'd be here, maybe one more year, maybe ten. (Life had a funny way of asserting itself into her life with Tom and they had learned, through triumphs and tragedies lived together, to merely enjoy the ride.) But she was glad to have the chance to live as she had always wanted in this place she loved so dear with her husband and children.

Children.

She was sure of it now, after seeing Dr. Clarkson just before the start of her shift. Almost two months along already. There had been several false alarms, and each had dampened Tom's spirits. So she decided to hold off on telling him until she was absolutely certain. Tom was usually so in tune with her body that often, he noticed if her monthly cycle was late before she did. This past month, however, he had been busy with getting Mr. Drew up to speed with the pigs and doing interviews for the new agent, so he hadn't mentioned anything. But she'd tell him today. They were going to be parents a second time.

Her six-hour shift finally ended at 1 o'clock, and Sybil's changed out of her uniform and made her way to the house. When she walked through the gates she could see the activity on the Downton lawn immediately. It didn't take her long to spot Tom, who was still being put to work, it seemed. He was in his shirtsleeves and was carrying a box full of small flower arrangements.

She grinned and practically skipped all the way over to him. When their eyes met he stopped and grinned as well. Sybil slowed her step and enjoyed merely looking into his eyes as they got closer. So much love and so many promises. She was only a few steps away, and she was so overcome with emotion that she put her handover her heart.

Tom set the box down on a table just next to him, knowing over a couple of jars full of candy in the process. Then he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a sweeping hug.

Sybil closed her eyes and she pulled him tightly into her and felt his lips against her ear.

"Will it be a boy this time, do you think?"

Sybil pulled away in shock. "You know! How?"

"I notice when it happens and when it doesn't," he said with a wink. "You think I can't count the days on a calendar."

Sybil laughed. "Are all husbands so . . . well acquainted with their wives, do you suppose?"

"They should be."

"Even if they are, I consider myself very lucky," Sybil said planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Tom smiled. "That makes two of us."

"No, darling, it makes four."