Chapter 25

This sort of, kind of might potentially contain a nod toward a spoiler. But I'm not sure, I've sort of lost track of what is a spoiler and what isn't a spoiler these days!

The day of Mary and Matthew's wedding dawned and it was bright and crisp, one of those mornings that promised so much for the day. It will be glorious by lunchtime, Sybil thought as she pulled open the curtains to their bedroom, allowing warm bands of sunlight to fall across the floor. Tom was in bed, still in his bedclothes, with Lillie in his arms. He'd sat her up, her little rump on his knee, his hand against her chest supporting her weight as he rubbed at her back, trying to bring up any wind from her feed. He was looking down at her, watching for the faces she contorted her features into as she fought the burping. Sybil studied them from her place near the window; her head slightly to one side and a contented smile playing on her lips.

Lillie let out one final little belch and Tom felt the change in her that meant his job was done, her lowered her back into the crook of his arm and allowed her to wrap her chubby little fist around it. He looked up from their daughter to see Sybil watching them.

He cocked his head inquisitively as she took a few steps back toward the bed. "What?"

"She's got you now you know." Her smile grew, "In a few years she'll have you attending to her every little whim." She slipped under the covers again, resting her cheek against his chest as he freed his hand from Lillie's grasp and put his arm around her. The baby's eyelids grew heavy as she gave in to sleep again, the warmth of her parents and comfort of a full belly lulling her into a slumber.

"She's had me since the beginning." He chuckled slightly; imagining a little girl with bouncing curls and his eyes and Sybil's smile, a little girl who had him wrapped around her little finger. He pressed a kiss into the top of Sybil's head and placed his hand on top of hers on Lillie's round, little belly. "Since the very beginning."

Tom had returned from Ireland looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He had done his best to hide it, especially from Sybil, but it had been obvious even to Mary amidst her preoccupation with the wedding. His silence at dinner, even when certain, controversial topics were brought up was obvious but Violet and Robert welcomed it, Mary and Cora were too involved in the wedding plans to confront him and Sybil was still reveling in the joy of having him back by her side.

It was Matthew who truly noticed and acted upon it the evening before the wedding. Lord and Lady Grantham had retired to bed, the Dowager Countess had been ferried home while Isobel had followed Sybil upstairs to coo over Lillie as she had her bedtime feed and Mary and Edith had disappeared into the upper floors to inspect Mary's dress for a final time, chatting excitedly about veils and tiaras. As the door closed behind them Matthew stood and made his way to the decanters on the side table, he poured whiskey into a pair of cut glass tumblers and held one out to Tom as he settled into the armchair opposite him, the crackle of the fire punctuating the silence.

"A penny for them?" Matthew's words pulled Tom out of his thoughts; he looked up at him and accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. "Nothing too bad troubling you, I hope."

Tom pursed his lips as if trying to decide if he should share his thoughts. "Is it that obvious?"

"You've been quiet – some would say unusually so." Matthew took a sip from his drink and let his arm settle on the armrest of the chair, swilling the liquid around his glass. "Bad news from home?" Tom frowned, his eyes focused on an indeterminate spot a few feet ahead of him and Matthew wondered if he had over stepped the mark, prodded too deeply at a sensitive subject. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"No no, you're not prying. Thank you for your concern." Tom looked up at Matthew again, sighing slightly. "I've a brother, my eldest brother, who seems to be getting himself in a little too deep." He fixed his eyes on Matthew before looking down into his own drink, mirroring Matthew's swirling. "If his Lordship calls me a fenian radical I'm not sure he would have any idea what to think of Joe." He cleared his throat, meeting Matthew's eye again. "He got himself in trouble a few times when we were younger, as many young men did - do, but we all thought marriage had…"He paused, searching for the words, "…tamed him somewhat. Or made him voice his beliefs less violently. But its obvious he is back in with his old cronies again and more pumped up than ever."

"You couldn't talk to him?"

Tom shook his head, a smile of desperation playing on his lips. "He doesn't exactly think highly of me anymore. He didn't think highly of me coming over here to work all those years ago, Christ – I'm a traitor now. Married to an English woman, an English noblewoman no less. I've made him the uncle to an English child. He thinks I'm running from Ireland's troubles to the safety of the English." He drained the rest of the drink. "In his eyes I may as well be the one enforcing the rules that discriminate against him. I'm as bad as the black and tans – if not worse."

"But you are so openly political, so open on your desire for freedom for Ireland. Anyone sat around the table here knows that. Your writing, the papers…" Matthew trailed off as he saw the look on Tom's face, as he screwed his eyes shut and began to shake his head.

"That's not enough for him. He sees that as a cowards attempt, a pointless way to respond. He thinks it has to be tit for tat, respond to violence and enforced suffering with exactly that, violence and suffering for the other side." His face fell, almost into a grimace, "Every time there is post or a telegram I expect it to be from my Ma, telling me the worst. He'd die for a free Ireland without putting a thought to it."

"I must say that there was a time when I think we all thought the same of you." Matthew's words were quiet, as if he wasn't sure whether to actually say them or not and making them barely audible was a compromise.

"Maybe I was more like that once." Tom looked into the fire, still holding on to his empty glass running his finger along the rim. "But things are different now – it's not just me I've to think of." He turned to look at Matthew again, his face set and serious. "No matter what I think and feel, I can't just mindlessly throw myself into it like I might have once."

"Because of Sybil and the baby?"

"Exactly – you don't fight for something for as long as I did to start taking risks like that when you've got it. Not when you've got everything you ever dreamed of to lose."

The wedding went without a hitch. The day was, as Sybil had predicted, bright and sunny and warm. The church was filled with coloured light that danced across the congregation in great arcs, bathing them in deep blues and greens. Sybil stood in a pew, Edith to one side and Tom to the other with her sleeping daughter ensconced in blankets pressed to her chest, and watched the marriage that had seemed too doomed to ever happen, finally take place.

Mary looked beautiful, all in white, a band of diamonds glittering above her veil, a bouquet of white and peach blooms in her hands. Matthew looked at her as she approached him, as she walked down the aisle by their father, like she was a goddess – the single most precious thing that existed on this earth.

Sybil looked ahead at her father, stood just in front of Edith and watched his face as they said their vows. He was so proud, obviously in awe and it hurt for a while that she hadn't made him look like that, that he hadn't been there to be proud and in awe of her on her own wedding day.

It became a day of comparisons from then on. The lavish party, in the garden back at the house, seemed stayed and overly formal for an event celebrating something as joyful as the union of two hearts. The flowers felt a little too much, overly extravagant – but that was Mary she supposed. The cake too big, too elaborate. The meal pure gluttony.

It was so different to their celebration, to the way the hours following their nuptials had been spent. But she saw the look on Mary's face when she looked at Matthew and she knew that at the heart of it, it was all exactly the same. Driven by the same overwhelming feelings, the wanting to give your heart to someone to keep forever. She smiled at that realization, that in reality, no matter what their Papa thought, she and Mary and the men they had married, the reasons they had married, were exactly the same.

She retired to the house not long after the meal, reminded of her duty to her daughter by the feeling of fullness in her breasts. The silence of her bedroom was nice, a welcome peacefulness after the chatter of outside, the endless stream of people she was obliged to converse with politely. Lillie was feeding noisily, Sybil's finger stroking her cheek, when the door clicked open. Sybil looked up to see Tom slip through the door, his hat in his hand, already shrugging off his jacket.

"I came to see how my girls were getting on." He lay the jacket and hat down on the bed and approached them carefully, taking in Sybil's smile, as he settled himself on the arm of the chair and looked down at the baby. "You were more beautiful you know."

She looked up at him and his eyes twinkled. "What do you mean?"

"On our wedding day - you made a much more beautiful bride."

She smirked at him and suppressed a little laugh. "Don't you think you're a little biased?"

He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead, she shut her eyes, enjoying the softness of his lips on her skin. "Maybe I am. But I know I'm right."

I know the whole point of this fic was that they came back for M&M's wedding – it's only taken me 25 chapters to finally get there! And even then it only gets a few paragraphs! But come on, who are you here for really?! I love the prospect of a [SPOILERS!] bit of a Matthew-Branson bromance, hence that bit in the middle. Hope you like it and it didn't all get a bit too mushy and lovey dovey - although again, that's what we're here for, isn't it? :p LP. x