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At first glance they looked like any other couple standing on the railway station platform waiting for their train. It was only when one looked closer that one saw the subtle differences such as the rich fabric and elegant cut of her simple flowered blouse and dark blue skirt matched against the cheap fabric of his suit. At his feet was a battered suitcase that contrasted to the elegant leather suitcase with monogrammed letters SPC that sat next to her feet. A larger suitcase matching the one at her feet, a small trunk adorned again with the monogram SPC and another battered suitcase sat on a cart standing next to the couple.
He had arrived at the railway station before her. Standing on the platform nervously pacing he kept glancing at the large clock on the station's outer wall. As he had paced up and down the short platform of the Downton station he feared that her family would still try to persuade her from leaving despite her father giving them his blessing. He wouldn't be certain until the two of them were actually on the train that his dream was now a reality.
From his spot on the platform he finally saw the motor car arrive. He knew it was the right motor car for he had been the driver of it for the past six years. She didn't wait for Pratt to open her door instead opting to open it herself and immediately her eyes searched the platform for him. He knew when she spotted him for a huge smile spread across her face.
As the train pulled out of the small Downton railway station, Sybil and Tom, sitting side by side in one of the third class compartments, looked at each other. Sybil looked radiant, her blue eyes sparkling and the widest grin on her face. Tom looked just as happy with his smile matching hers as his left hand reached out and took hold of her right hand.
Sybil looked down at their entwined hands, her head slightly bobbing up and down as she continued looking at their hands.
"It feels so good to finally be able to hold your hand" Tom whispered "to not have to worry about anyone seeing."
In response she leaned her head against his chest and squeezed his hand. He had waited for this moment for so long even at times despairing it would ever happen. He didn't care that they were not alone in the train compartment and so his lips brushed the top of her head.
It was hours later when they stood on the deck of the steamer, the last rays of the setting sun casting faint light on the receding shoreline of England. Sybil took one last look at her home land and sighed deeply. Tom, standing next to her, wrapped his arm around her.
"Any regrets?" he whispered.
She shook her head. "Only that I made you wait so long."
Mary could hear the congenial chatter and clinking of plates and glasses as she approached the dining room. Entering the dining room, she murmured "good morning" to all and received likewise greetings in return.
Glancing around the table, she was surprised to see one person was missing. "Has Tom already eaten?" Mary asked.
"Not yet Aunt Mary" Aine replied. "I guess he's still in bed although" she paused looking at Ciara "it does seem rather late for him."
But Mary knew he wasn't still in bed because passing his bedroom she had glanced in the open doorway. Tom wasn't there but his suitcase was laying open on the unmade bed.
Looking at her watch Ciara announced "Maybe I should go up and get him."
"I can't believe the newsboy is so late with the morning papers" Howard stated to no one in particular.
Hearing this Mary knew where to find her absent brother-in-law.
"He's not in his room" Mary stated to Ciara who had started to get up "but I think I know where to find him."
Mary stood quietly in the library looking at Tom. He was splayed in one of the lounge chairs, his stockinged feet propped on the ottoman, one of Howard's newspapers open and spread across his lap, his head tilted back and eyes closed.
"Now that's a sight I wish my father could see" Mary loudly stated causing Tom to snap his head up, eyes wide open.
As Mary giggled, if that's what one could describe the sound emitting from the almost 80 year old woman, Tom looked down at his feet before looking up at her with his now so familiar cheeky grin breaking out across his face.
"I was just waiting for the rest of you sleepy heads to get up" he laughed.
"And found yourself falling back to sleep" Mary retorted.
"Well it was very early when I got down here."
"And made yourself quite at home I see." Mary pointed at the newspaper and then the tea cup sitting on the end table.
It was only when the two of them were in the Land Rover that Tom realized how significant Mary's words in the library were. You've made yourself quite at home. He silently chuckled because he had made himself at home in a place where he had once felt like an alien. It had been a slow transformation and he would never be able to pinpoint exactly when or how it had happened.
As the Land Rover bumped along the dirt road, so many thoughts tumbled around in his head. Part of the reason Tom had wanted to come to Downton was to make one final trip there in memory of his beloved Sybil. He wanted to visit the places that had meant so much to them particularly in their early years. After all this was the place where they had met, where they had become friends, and where they fell in love. He wanted to show his granddaughters the places that had meant so much to him and their grandmother and to share a bit of their history.
It felt good to drive the 1965 Land Rover pick-up over the rough back roads, some not more than a dirt track really, of the estate. Tom wished he had had a vehicle like this back when he was the estate agent. He glanced over at his only passenger noting Mary was sitting as always ramrod straight with her hands clasped together resting on her lap and her face looking forward through the Rover's front window shield although he doubted that she was seeing the grounds around her for she seemed lost in her own world. It was a familiar look, both on her and Sybil, and he knew she would, just as Sybil did, tell him what was on her mind when she was ready.
His granddaughters were spending the morning being pampered at the Downton Country Hotel's spa, a gift courtesy of Mary. Seeing the delighted looks on their faces when Mary had made the proposal of manicures, pedicures, haircuts and styling or whatever suited their fancy from the spa's menu of services, he feared it might be the highlight of their trip. He had to admit he was intrigued by the idea of a mud bath – really what little boy wouldn't enjoy that he thought – and was almost tempted to try it himself. He laughed at the thought that these rich gits would pay to be bathed in mud when it was, like so much in life, something that could be done for no money. Ah but it's special mud Mary had explained in reply to his jests. But mud is mud he had retorted.
So instead of lathering himself in mud, special Downton mud he reminded himself, he was driving around the estate with Mary at her request that the two of them spend the morning alone out on the estate.
He glanced again at Mary and then laughed. "I would have said this seems like old times" he paused as he looked back at the road but the cheeky grin still on his face "but then you'd have to be in the back seat."
Mary joined him in laughing. "See I can accept change!"
Her laughter died as her eyes narrowed and she looked seriously at Tom. "How did it start?" she asked.
Tom knitted his brows in confusion. "How did what start?"
"You and Sybil."
Tom glanced at Mary and saw that she was looking at him earnestly. "I never asked her" Mary stated.
He turned his head back to focus on the narrow dirt road. It was probably a minute or two later that a sly smile spread across his face. "Will you have your own way, do you think? With the frock?"
"You began bonding over a frock?" Mary was incredulous.
Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Well it quickly turned to the issue of women's rights and politics and the vote."
Then emitting a laugh he continued "but it turned out to be quite a frock."
Now Mary was even more confused. "What could have been so special about a frock?"
"It was her harem pants" he joyfully replied.
It was unusual for just Mary to be invited to Granny's for tea. Mary set her teacup down on the small table. "You didn't ask me here Granny to discuss the weather."
"No … no … of course not" Violet replied. She should have known that Mary would know this wasn't just a social visit between grandmother and granddaughter. "It's just that I'm concerned about Sybil."
"Sybil?" Mary couldn't hide her surprise. When she had received the summons to visit her grandmother Mary was sure it had to do with the entail and cousin Matthew.
"What about Sybil?" she asked.
"I'm concerned just where all this is heading."
Now Mary was certainly puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at Granny."
Violet, sighing deeply, set down her teacup a little too briskly causing it to clatter against the saucer. "First it was that foolishness about going to hear those politicians and wanting to canvas and now …" Violet shook her head, giving a small snort as she did so. "And now that … that … whatever it was she wore last to dinner last night."
Mary wanted to scream. The estate was being stolen by a middleclass solicitor from Manchester and yet Granny was concerned about Sybil wearing harem pants.
"I'm just afraid of where all this is going" Violet continued "and with her season coming up. I shudder to think what she may do then."
"Oh honestly Granny" Mary started. "I think Sybil is just …" she couldn't quite think what to say. She was shocked, no surprised was a better word, at Sybil's outfit but she wouldn't say that to Granny.
"She's young and maybe chafing a bit …" Mary paused. "Oh Granny you know Sybil's always been a bit of a rebel."
Violet glared at Mary. "That's what worries me. Your mother is too oblivious and your father is too indulgent especially when it comes to Sybil."
"We just need to make sure this doesn't lead to more rebellious actions" Violet stated.
"More rebellious actions?" Mary laughed. "What do you think Sybil's going to do Granny? Run away and join the Suffragettes?
"Well with Sybil … she's at that age she can be so easily influenced" Violet replied.
Mary rolled her eyes. "This is Sybil we're talking about Granny. Stubborn … headstrong … willful Sybil. Besides who around here could possibly influence her?"
Mary turned her head so that she was looking out the passenger window at the field of sheep grazing in the morning sunshine. Soon the dirt road entered a deeply wooded area and they climbed a steep hill before the road opened up once again into a small field only this one had no grazing animals.
Tom stopped the motor car since they were at their destination. Mary had asked him to drive up to one of the estate's follies called Heaven's Gate. As he exited the car, Tom noticed that the brick edifice seemed to be in need of repair with a few missing bricks and some crumbling mortar. Both Tom and Mary walked over to stand under the middle arch, the tallest of the folly's three arches. The view from here was nothing short of spectacular encompassing not only the house but much of the grounds and he instantly regretted that he hadn't brought his granddaughters up here.
"This has always been my favorite place on the estate" Mary announced as she stood there with Tom by her side. "From the time I was a young girl I'd ride my horse up here and survey all that I thought I would one day own."
"It's funny isn't it" she said without looking at Tom. "All I've ever wanted is this" she gestured at the sight before them. "But you hated it here.
"That's not quite true Mary" Tom softly replied. "I didn't hate it here … how could I … it's where I met Sybil."
Looking back now he could see he had many wonderful memories of Downton. Foremost of course was falling in love with Sybil, something that had taken time over long conversations in the garage and in the car. But there were also afternoons of picnics and evenings of stargazing, of swimming or boating in one of the lakes, of walks in woods blazing with autumn color or in green fields alive with blooming lilacs and rhododendrons.
While he had strained under the yoke of service, he had enjoyed driving the motor cars especially the modern Renault and the countless hours he had happily spent working on them. There was the wonderful Downton library giving him access to its vast collection of books and quiet evenings spent reading in the solitude of his own cottage.
He had to admit he had come to love being the Estate Agent, a job much more challenging and fulfilling than he ever imagined. That job had also cemented his friendship with Matthew and he had come to regard Matthew like a brother.
"I hated the system that made some servants and treated some better than others because of the station of their birth" Tom continued "a system that denied many a chance to better their lives."
Mary nodded. Staring out at the view before them the two old friends became silent once again with each lost in their own thoughts. It was Mary that finally broke that silence. "I wasn't a very nice person … I'm ashamed of who I was back then.
Tom turned to look at his sister-in-law with surprise written all over his face but Mary stood still looking straight ahead. He had never thought his sister-in-law was the type to look inward at herself.
"That afternoon I spent with the girls looking at the old photographs it brought up so many memories not all of which were pleasant. It made me think of what I was like then." She looked over at him "I didn't tell them those things …"
"I couldn't bring myself to tell them what the family … me … what we really thought back then about you and Sybil."
"You're not that person any more Mary. Life has a way of changing us, making us see what's important and what isn't. Times change not only because of new inventions or manners but how we as individuals accept them" Tom spoke earnestly.
He continued "we shouldn't be the same person at 80 as we were at 20 … we've had life experiences … good and bad."
As Mary nodded her head she turned to look at him. Her eyes were clouded with unshed tears. "I never said it; even when we sat there together at her bedside … I never said she did the right thing in marrying you."
He reached out to touch her hand and Mary fell into his arms, he could feel the wetness of her tears on his shirt.
"I miss her so much Tom" Mary cried.
Tears welled in Tom's eyes as he patted Mary's back. "I do too Mary." He closed his eyes and as so often the image of Sybil came to him. It wasn't always the same image but she was always smiling or laughing with that mischievous glint in her eyes.
"We've been through so much you and I" Mary's voice was so low that Tom had to strain to hear her. "It's hard to imagine that it's just the two of us left.
Mary wiped away her tears and sighed deeply. "We're the only ones that really remember Granny and Edith and Mama and Papa. Even Matthew is such a distant memory for my children."
"That's life Mary and hopefully one day Artie and Ciara and Aine will fondly say that about us" Tom countered.
At the mention of their grandchildren Mary smiled. "It's been wonderful to see the way the girls and Artie have bonded. I don't know why our children lost touch but maybe our grandchildren ... I hope it's something that can last that our families will keep in touch."
"I have a feeling after Ciara and Aine get home and tell their brothers and sisters and cousins about this trip, you might get some other Bransons wanting to come for a visit" Tom laughed. "I do have fifteen grandchildren!"
Wiping her eyes, she smiled at him. "Well there's always room for more Bransons at Downton" she said causing Tom to raise one eyebrow in mock disbelief.
Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Your right Tom life experiences do change you.
"Daddy is that the ship we're going on?" Five year old Aoife pointed excitedly to the steamer.
"Yes darling."
Tom looked at the clear skies and was thankful it forecasted an easy sailing to Ireland. It had been over five years since that night he had been forced to flee his homeland. For five years he had dreamed of this day when he would be able to return home.
Aoife was so excited she hopped and skipped up the gangplank with Tom trying to stay just behind her. Sybil, holding two year old Roisin in her arms, walked at a much slower pace behind her husband and older daughter.
They made their way to the railing where they would watch the English coast recede from sight. Since it was early November the sun was already in the throes of sunset and it wouldn't be long before the coast disappeared from sight.
Though she held Roisin tightly in her arms, Sybil leaned against her husband. "It's so hard to think that we're finally going home. Remember when we first made this journey?"
A broad smile came over Tom. "Of course. I was so excited, so full of love and hope about the future."
Sybil creased her brows in puzzlement. For years they had talked of returning to Ireland. "Are you not feeling those things now?"
"Of course I am love" Tom responded. "But it is different this time. I'm not that penniless guy afraid that you'd realize you had made a mistake. We both have more realistic expectations as to what we'll find in Dublin."
Home. To Tom the word had always brought forth images of Ireland, it was where he had been born and raised and where he hoped to die. It was where his family, his mother and his brothers and sisters, lived. But Tom had changed these last five years and had come to realize home was where he and Sybil were together.