Author's Note: Never praise your son-in-law until the year is out. –Irish Proverb
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.
Tom had been working more or less regularly at the Evening Telegraph, and on the night before their departure for Downton he arrived home both late and exhausted. And he still needed to pack.
Sybil was home. He smelled food. Praise Jesus. He would not have to cook anything.
He hung up his coat and hat, then came into the kitchen and put his arms around his wife, who was in the act of setting the table.
"Do you know what a wonderful wife you are?" he asked.
She beamed at him, set down the silverware, and reached up to caress his cheek. "Good husbands make good wives," she said as if it were a proverb, though it was not one he'd ever heard. She kissed him.
"What's for supper?" he asked.
"The Blind Beggarman."
He'd thought that was what it smelled like, but "Did Mam teach you to make it?"
"She wrote out a receipt for me anyway. She thought it might help with my morning sickness. She claims 'praties' are a sovereign remedy."
"Did you tell her you wanted a republican remedy?" he teased.
She laughed and dished up the vegetable stew.
She chattered happily about the trip as they ate, and he listened to her with half of his mind while the other half worked on his 'problem,' and the third 'half' shoveled food into his mouth.
Sybil cocked her head, and her full lips curved, a forkful of potato halfway to her mouth. "Have you nothing to say tonight, sweetheart?"
He swallowed a delectably soft, sweet, golden chuck of rutabaga. "This is delicious!"
His exuberant reply earned a husky chortle from his smiling wife. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach…. Are you happy we're going, Tom?"
"Yes, very happy." He licked vegetable broth from his lips. "Sybil, can I ask you something? A favor, once we get there?"
He looked awfully serious, she thought. "Of course you can, Tom." She tried to make her expression encouraging. "Anything."
"I know I disappointed you, about earning enough money for the tri—"
He couldn't continue, because his wife's dainty, but capable fingers were pressed against his lips. He kissed them automatically, while she said, "No, you didn't. Don't think it."
He swallowed. "Well, if I didn't, I'm glad, but— I wanted to ask— that is, I need—" He stopped, frustrated.
Sybil's brow furrowed. "What do you need, Tom? Tell me, and you'll have it, if it's within my gift."
St. Priscilla, please help me to not offend my wife! "Sybil, I know you keep saying his lordship has forgiven us—"
"He must have, if he sent us the money to come—"
"Yes, but maybe it wasn't him, or maybe he sent it anonymously because it's only you he's forgiven, and not me."
His wife considered this. "Go on."
"I want to go with you—"
Alarm filled her blue eyes. "Tom! After all this, don't say you're not—"
"I am, I'm coming with you," he reassured her quickly.
She relaxed.
How can you hope to provide for her? …. How much will you take to leave us in peace?
… if she wanted that kind of life, she would not be marrying me.
"I have to go to Downton as myself, as Tom Branson, and I don't think it's going to be easy for your family to accept me as I am."
Her lips curved. "They'll come around. I'm betting on you."
Her husband's lips curved in response, remembering who'd said that first. "That's the favor I wanted to ask: believe in me, trust me, and please don't disappointment me, even though this is likely to be very painful for you to watch. I know what I'm doing. I can't pretend to anyone other than who I am, and if they're going to accept me, then it's going to have to be me they accept, not some play pretend 'suitable' husband who wasn't formerly their chauffeur."
Sybil looked concerned. "I believe in you, Tom… but I don't see why you want to make things more difficult, if you don't have to."
Tom looked down at his plate of stew, then back up at his wife. He sighed. "I don't want to make things difficult, that's just the way things are. And I can't make that reality go away by pretending things are different. I took a job with your father as his servant, and then I married his daughter without his permission."
"I had some say in that matter," she reminded him tartly.
He smiled. "Yes, you did." He reached across the table to take her hand. "But it's a fact that hasn't gone away, and won't as long as we keep ignoring it. Look at it from his side: it's only natural that he would be angry with me, and you must let the two of us work out our relationship for ourselves."
"But surely I can help you?"
"Maybe. But ultimately, it's going to have be settled between him and me alone. I'd like it to be settled, because his lordship is a good man. I valued his good opinion when I had it; I'm sorry to have lost it. And I don't know when we'll get another opportunity to go to Downton, so if I'm to face the music finally, I think it has to be now. I have faith that they'll come around, your father, your grandmother. And I need you to have faith, too. But it won't be easy. I don't mind, that it's hard… but I also need you not to mind." He smiled at her hopefully. "It will be all right, I promise, now that we're going back there. So please trust me. And don't disappoint me."
She looked at him for a long time before answering. "All right, Tom," she said. "I trust you. And of course you must do as you think best."
He seemed relieved. She watched him thoughtfully as he resumed eating. She was silent for so long, that he looked back up at her. "Sybil?"
"Yes, Tom?"
"What are you thinking? You're so quiet."
She toyed with her spoon. "Tom, you really care what my family thinks of you, don't you? Especially Papa?"
He nodded. "Of course."
Sybil smiled, ruefully. "Of course." She reached across the table to stroke her husband's cheek again. His skin was so smooth. How could a man's cheek be so smooth? So supple? "Well, husband, for tonight you need not worry about pleasing my family. But you do need to worry about pleasing me!"
Tom grinned. "You know I haven't packed yet."
"Well, I guess you're going to be very tired on our journey. Because there are a few things I need you to do for me, and they involve your marital debt, so you had best make sure you don't disappoint me!"
Tom smiled across the table at her. "I do love you so much."
Sybil grinned. "And I love you."
