Prompt: "I'll never unsee that."
April 1918
Tom was right; it is good to be back. She didn't realize how much she missed her family until she saw all of them standing outside Downton, ready to greet her and Matthew.
Dear Matthew. They've been back for just a little over a month, but he's still quiet and keeps to himself. Papa doesn't know how to be around him, nor Mama for that matter. "I'll never unsee that," she overhears her father say to her mother one night, upon their first glimpse of Matthew, arriving home, legless. Cousin Isobel, bless her, seems to coddle him too much, and Edith perhaps tries a little too hard to cheer him up and fill the silence.
Only Mary seems to understand his desire for solitude, though it is rare, from what Sybil has seen, of her leaving his side for very long. But when Mary talks, her voice is soft, thoughtful, and sometimes she will simply walk him through the gardens, pushing his chair and not saying anything, just letting the two of them be surrounded by the peace of nature.
But even though his chair doesn't take up a great deal of room, Matthew will not have any of his meals at the dining table, nor will he seek their company in the evenings, or the company of the other officers who are there to convalesce. Mary serves as his companion, and Sybil and Thomas serve as his "medical staff", if you will.
It is good to see Thomas again, Sybil can't deny. He's done well for himself there, is now a "staff-sergeant" for as long as the house is being run as a convalescent home, and it's obvious that Cousin Isobel appreciates his help, even if the two of them sometimes butt heads.
"She's a good woman, but she can be a bit smothering at times," he tells her one afternoon, while retreating out back to have a cigarette.
Indeed, Mama shares Thomas' sentiments very much, and according to Edith, both her mother and cousin have gotten into rather intense "disagreements" over scheduling. Thankfully Edith has been given the job of "peacekeeper" between the two women, and it's quite clear that she's a favorite amongst many of the officers convalescing there.
It's strange, how familiar and how foreign her childhood home has become. It's still Downton Abbey, her room is just as she left it, the rituals and protocols that they always followed continue, and yet it's not Downton, either. The hall, the library, the drawing room—even the dining room to a point, are all so different as space is given to the different officers who are residing there. Granny can't stand it, but Sybil feels, perhaps for the first time, a special kinship with the house.
Like her, Downton seems to be…useful.
So many rooms that are locked up when not in use are open now, and the presence of the house in the area truly is making a difference for the returning soldiers. Perhaps this was Downton's destiny? Just as Tom Bellasis said that she was "made for this", maybe that is also true for the house?
She's on her rounds when Edith comes looking for her. "Sybil!" her sister hisses. She's waving a piece of paper and her face looks ashen. Sybil feels her heart sink. "This just arrived…I think you better read it."
She swallows and nods her head, taking the paper from Edith's hands and tries to keep her own from trembling as she reads the telegram.
The message is short. The words are simple.
But their impact leaves her numb.
Tom Bellasis is dead.
"I'm so sorry…" Edith whispers, and when Sybil looks at her sister she can see sympathetic tears in her eyes. Edith wasn't as close as Sybil was to the Bellasis', but her sister has always worn her heart on her sleeve.
Sybil swallows, though her throat suddenly feels like a desert. "I…" she blinks, just…overcome with shock by this news. "I…I need to…" she stumbles, and Edith clutches her elbow, her eyes wide with worry.
"Sybil!?"
She shakes her head. "I'm fine, just…lightheaded," she swallows, trying her best to keep the bile that threatens to rise, down. "I…I need to telephone his family."
"Sybil—"
But she ignores her sister and manages to make it to the library on her own, not pausing to acknowledge any one as she passes, just going directly to the telephone. I should go in person, and she plans to. She will go to offer her condolences, but right now she just needs to speak to his mother, because it's so hard to believe that her childhood friend, who truly is a gifted doctor but who seems so doubtful, but at the same time seems to have such high regard for her…is dead.
When the call goes through, Sybil is surprised to hear Imogen's voice.
"Oh Sybil!" her friend wails, and for the next ten minutes, Sybil sits patiently as she listens to Imogen's crying. When her sobs seem to die down, Imogen murmurs, "thank you for calling; it's good to hear your voice."
"I would have come—"
"No, this is fine," Imogen reassures. "Mama is indisposed…has been ever since the news arrived," she lowers her voice. "And…please don't be offended, but I do not think she would have handled you being here very well."
Sybil is surprised by her friend's words, and isn't sure how to respond.
"It's just that…" Imogen sighs, her voice still low. "Forgive me, but…Mama had such high hopes that you and Tom…" her voice trails off and Sybil feels the blood drain from her face, as well as quickly return and burn her cheeks.
She remembers that day, when Tom Bellasis covered her hand with his. She stopped him from saying anything further, but the way his voice sounded, and the way he was looking at her…
"Oh Sybil, he didn't deserve this!"
None of them do, Sybil thinks.
"He wasn't even fighting! He was traveling in an ambulance when a bomb went off—"
"W-w-what?" Sybil stammers, interrupting Imogen's sentence.
"Exactly! He had gone to tend to injured soldiers, but apparently there was some sort of explosion, and the entire ambulance…" her voice trails off and she's crying again.
And Sybil feels sick.
His ambulance wasn't the only one, there were others; it could have been one of the others!
"I don't know when the funeral will be, but despite what I told you about Mama, will you still come? Please?"
She numbly nods her head and then realizing her friend can't see her, murmurs into the telephone, her voice so soft, "of course."
She hangs up then and stares at the floor, the room spinning around her.
It's not true, it isn't possible, I would know, I just…I WOULD KNOW!
She staggers out of the library and again, ignores everyone she passes, and she doesn't stop moving until she reaches the garage and calls to the chauffeur to take her into the village, to the telegraph office, as fast as possible!
She spends a small fortune on sending a telegram to Sister Agatha, as well as paying the return telegram which she hopes the woman will reply to, immediately. Of course, knowing Sister Agatha, she is probably at the field hospital, and so who knows when she will read it, let alone reply? But Sybil refuses to leave, in fact she tells the driver to go back to the house without her, that she'll walk back on her own. And so the waiting begins…
Two and a half hours pass before a reply finally arrives. They are the longest hours of her life.
She practically rips the paper from the hand of the woman at the telegraph office, and starts to read.
"I'm so sorry…" the woman whispers, but Sybil doesn't hear her.
She doesn't hear anything.
The paper falls from her hands, just as her own knees crumple beneath her.
Nurse Crawley [stop]
I regret to inform you [stop]
Tom Branson was killed in an ambulance explosion [stop]
on the morning of April 19 [stop]
alongside Capt. Bellasis [stop]
To be continued...