A/N: And here's the next chapter! We are nearing the end of 1919, and soon we will be moving into 1920, which is an important year for the Tom/Sybil shippers, and don't we know it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey. I wish I did, but I don't.
Enjoy~
July 3, 1919
Mairead-
I hope this letter finds you in good health and good spirits, though knowing you, you're happy as a lark to be back at Downton.
Sybil and I are getting along well ourselves, especially now that we've moved to Dublin and have found work that pays well and satisfies us enough to make the demands worth it. You'd like the flat we settled on- there's a bookshop down the way, and Phoenix Park isn't far. You can't see the Liffey, I'm afraid, though you never liked the docks much, did you? Perhaps you can come see for yourself someday- not soon, obviously, as Mrs. Hughes is unlikely to let you go for long any time in the near future, but know that you are always welcome in our home.
I know you and I are nowhere near as close as you and Sam were- he was your brother, so I can hardly take his place in that regard- but know that I love you, Mairead, and I only want to keep you safe. I'm sorry if it ever seems I am trying to control you- you and Sybil are both free spirits if there ever were any, and I know there's no use trying to control her, so I really should assume the same for you- and I apologize specifically for my behavior at the Wellington Testimonial the day before you left. It was wrong for me to suggest that you might be jealous of what Sybil and I managed to have, and I pray that you will forgive me for what I said and what my words might have implied that day.
All the best,
Tom
Mairead folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope, which she tucked alongside her plate. "May I please be excused?" she asked, her question directed towards the head of the table, where Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sat, like a father and mother presiding over their large brood.
"Of course you may, Mairead," Mrs. Hughes said.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." Mairead made quick work of collecting her plate and teacup, and she plucked up the envelope too, before she could forget it and risk having someone read the letter within. She went straight to the kitchen, slipping past Daisy, setting her dishes in the sink, and exiting almost as quickly and quietly as she had come, before Mrs. Patmore could descend upon the housemaid and shoo her out of the kitchen.
August 14, 1919
Mairead-
I imagine things are at a lull, as Sybil has told me that the London Season is underway, though by that same information, it is almost at its end, and soon work will pick up soon, I suppose. You're looking forward to that, aren't you? Sitting around doing very little isn't something you enjoy, I know, and I hope you haven't driven the others mad with your busy bee habits.
I wish I could say things were at a lull here in Ireland, though we both know that's never been the case. Sybil and I are safe, as are Isibéal, Daniel, and Erin. It isn't so much in the cities as it is in the countryside, and even then, from the reports I've heard and read and written, it's in some counties more than others.
Despite this, I still wish you would consider visiting us when you have time. We would love to have you, and there's plenty of room for you to stay with us in the flat.
All the best,
Tom
September 4, 1919
Mairead-
I know you wouldn't forget, but Sybil wanted me to write regardless and remind you that today is Daniel's sixth birthday.
Isibéal brought him and Erin to our flat for dinner earlier this evening, and we had a small cake, which Sybil made, if you'll believe that. You would've loved it, you really would've, though you're busy, and I respect your obligations. Lord knows you'd do the same for me.
Anyways, Isibéal and the children were asking after you, and I told them you were doing well, that you would be visiting soon (Daniel seemed excited at the prospect of "Aunt May" coming to visit. Please tell me you're going to teach him to call you by your proper name, or at least something closer, when he's older), and you would write when you had the chance.
Please write to them, Mairead. Isibéal is your brother's wife, and Erin is your godchild, and I know you must feel sending them some of your earnings is interaction enough, it is cold and distant compared to what you could be doing. I saw you play with Daniel and Erin when you came for our wedding, and, let me tell you, that was love.
Christopher Moran said he passed you on his way back into the village that one day, and saw you playing with them, and saw how you sheltered them when Ryan Murray came and stuck his no-good nose in things, and he said to me "I thought for a moment that those were her babes, though the girl looked too much like Sam for that to be so...still, she acted as if they were her own, wouldn't let Ryan Murray so much's look at 'em if he tried. She'll be a wonderful mother some day, I'm sure of it."
It's getting late, Mairead, and Sybil's already gone to bed, and so I will bid you goodnight, and God bless you, a stóirín.
- Tom
October 30, 1919
Mairead-
I hope all is well with you.
I'm not sure what is being said at Downton about what is going on in Ireland as I'm writing this (though I suppose Lord Grantham and his family aren't concerning themselves with such things, and I think the same can be said for the staff), but that's surely what should be happening. It's appalling, the amount of violence that both Sybil and I are witnessing in our respective fields. I know Sam always hoped independence would be ushered in by the great orators, and not by the guerilla fighters who seem to be raring for a fight without any regard for the lives they are disrupting in doing so.
Nonetheless, I must admit I'm glad to see Ireland fighting back, in part because it's high time she did, and also because it gives me something to write about.
All the best,
Tom
"You're quite popular as of late, aren't you?" Anna asked as she helped Mairead clear the dining room from breakfast. "Careful with the teacups- I accidentally broke one of them when I was your age, and I don't think I've ever seen Mrs. Hughes so distraught over the family's things."
Mairead nodded. "I'd say the same for you, Mrs. Bates," she said, setting the china on a tray, careful that it didn't chip in the process. Her words were dangerously close to being out of line, but it wasn't far from the truth.
It seemed that every day, there was a letter in the post from Mr. Bates, and Mairead knew that Anna put a letter of her own in the box for outgoing post. Similarly, there was something for Mairead from Tom nearly every day, whether it was an article of his (clipped from a newspaper by Sybil, Mairead was sure of it), a letter or two that was at least a page long, or (and this had happened four or five times since the middle of July) a five pound note, sometimes two, with a letter signed by both Tom and Sybil explaining that it was something for her to put aside as pocket money. Sybil clearly wrote those notes, because five pounds were hardly pocket money, not to people like Mairead and Tom.
The letters had gone unanswered, stowed in the small wooden box where Mairead kept all the letters she received, and the articles were placed in the same box after she read them before bed. She could only imagine what Mr. Carson would say if he caught her reading articles of such a political nature as Tom's were, though to his credit, not all of them were as charged as Mr. Carson might suspect them being, and not all of them were political (though those were nowhere near as good as the more political pieces). The money remained untouched, hidden under five years of correspondences from Sam, Tom, Kieran, and other, more permanent fixtures in her life.
"Perhaps, but everyone knows who my letters are from. You, on the other hand, for all we know, could have an admirer, or even a sweetheart," the head housemaid (soon-to-be-lady's-maid, Mairead was sure of it) said, a mischievous smile flitting across her face. "So which is it?"
"I haven't got a sweetheart, and I don't know who'd a'mire me enough t'want t'be mine."
No one but Nathaniel, she thought, but she dismissed the thought before it had the chance to set down roots and expand. It wasn't something that she needed in her thoughts, not now, not ever, and not anymore. He was part of her past now, and things from the past needed to stay in the past.
"I wouldn't say that if I were you," Anna warned. "You're still young, and no doubt he's out there, waiting for you to come find him."
"Is that how you and Mr. Bates met?" Mairead asked, daring to broach the subject of Anna's husband- a subject that was greatly discouraged by Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson for discussion because of the high esteem in which everyone held Anna, as well as the dubious nature of the charges brought up against her husband.
Anna laughed- perhaps the first time Mairead had truly heard her laugh since her husband was arrested. "I suppose so, though not really," she said. "I had no problem finding him physically, but finding him, yes, I think he was waiting for me, in his way."
"Do they have a date for the trial?"
The question came out of the blue, and Mairead cursed herself for asking it the second she saw Anna's expression darken, her smile flattening out into an indifferent line. She'd given into curiosity, tired of hearing the other maids speculating about when the trial would be, if there was to be a trial at all (of course there would be a trial, though would it be a fair one, that was the question), and whether or not the valet actually did kill his wife (well, ex-wife. Anna was his wife now, and Mairead knew that Mr. Bates would never lay a finger on Anna, no matter what reason she might give him).
"They do."
"When?"
"January fifth, at eleven o'clock sharp, in York."
"May I come?" Mairead asked. "I'd hate t'think of you as facing this alone."
"That's very kind of you, and no, I don't mind if you come. I'd like it, actually. Thank you."
A/N: Aaaand that concludes another chapter of A Patch of Clover.
I'll have yo know that when Sybil dies, there will be a divergent AU where she doesn't die there is a lot of Sybil/Tom fluff and a few children involved.
Also, I just noticed this, all the dates that I have selected for the letters are thursdays.
Please read and review, and enjoy, and tell your friends and thank you so much for reading!