Matthew stared at the fire, losing himself in the bright flickering beauty of it. He had no idea how much time had passed since Sybil, Tom, Dr Clarkson, Cora and Mary had left for the hospital. He, Violet and Robert were sitting in the drawing room waiting anxiously for the telephone to ring. It must be late by now, although at a time like this, the time of day seemed irrelevant.
By the time the ambulance had arrived, Sybil had been so confused, she had hardly known what was happening. Tom had been distraught and terrified, and there had been nothing anyone could say to comfort him. Cora had been in tears. Mary had been calm on the outside, trying desperately keep Sybil calm, and to reassure everyone else, although Matthew had seen the panic and fear in her eyes. She had dithered, not knowing whether to go or stay, worrying she might get in the way. But Sybil had suddenly called her name, and she had known she had to stay with her sister.
Being the son of a doctor and a nurse, Matthew knew how dangerous a caesarean section was. The chances that both Sybil and her baby would survive were not high. And even if she did make it, the chances that she would be able to safely carry another child were small. He couldn't imagine what Tom was going through. The thought of the same thing happening to Mary made him feel sick. Perhaps it was a good thing they weren't likely to have children. Perhaps they should stop trying. They did want a child so very much, but if this was the consequence…
Violet had resisted Robert's suggestion that she go and lie down while they waited for someone to telephone with news, saying that there was no chance of her getting any rest while she knew her granddaughter and great-grandchild were in danger. None of them could do anything but sit in silence, waiting for news and fearing the worst. Robert filled glass after glass of whiskey and drank it without tasting it, despite his usual appreciation for the fine Scotch whiskey Shrimpy sent every Christmas. Usually, his mother would have admonished him for it, but under the circumstances, it didn't seem worth it; anything that made it possible to get through the night was worth trying.
Matthew could feel himself beginning to drift into sleep, sitting in his chair by the hot fire. It must be the early morning rather than late night by now, and he had been awake since eight that morning. He didn't think he had ever been in his chair this long, and he could feel his body complaining. His shoulders were stiff and painful, and his back hurt too. He knew that if Mary were here, she would force him to at least sit on the sofa, or more likely to go to bed. He knew that sitting in his chair for so long wasn't good for him because of the danger of pressure sores. But he couldn't go to bed until they knew whether Sybil and the baby were alright, and he couldn't get onto the sofa without help. Mary wasn't here, he wasn't going to ring for William at this time and in front of Robert and Violet, and he could hardly ask Robert to help him. It struck him how reliant he was on Mary and he sighed heavily and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the stiffness. It didn't work.
When the telephone eventually rang, it took a moment for the three of them to be convinced it was real, so strange did the mechanical ringing sound in the silence that had lasted so many hours. Robert choked on his whiskey, then jumped up, still coughing and spluttering, and almost ran to the hallway, something Matthew had never seen him do. Violet rose and followed him, and Matthew came after her more slowly, his shoulders complaining at each push of the wheels. They reached the hall where Robert was holding the telephone, looking pale and drawn and clearly listening to what the person on the other end was saying. He said nothing for a while then said,
"And the child?"
He listened for a while longer.
"Very well," he said, then put the telephone down with a sigh. Matthew looked at him expectantly, and Violet watched his expression.
"Well, are you planning to keep us in suspense all night?" she asked. It was a good imitation of her usual tone, but nothing could disguise the trembling in her voice as she spoke.
Robert shook himself and looked at her, and his worried frown melted into a relieved smile.
"It's a girl," he said tiredly.
"And Sybil?" Violet prompted.
"Alive. Still unconscious after the anaesthetic. Tom and Cora are staying at the hospital tonight, but Mary's coming home."
"Thank God," Violet breathed and collapsed on the closest chair, suddenly exhausted now she was no longer kept awake by adrenaline and worry.
"There's a bed made up for you, Mama," Robert said gently.
Violet sighed and rose again.
"Goodnight," she said, and she began to make her way slowly towards the stairs. Robert suddenly became attentive and went over to support her up the stairs.
Matthew went slowly to his room, but then didn't know what to do. He didn't want to ring, not knowing which servants would be awake and not wanting to wake William at this unearthly hour. He wondered suddenly if he could possibly get onto the bed without help. It had never occurred to him that it was possible, but now, it didn't seem like such a mad idea. He positioned his chair next to the bed and thought about how he might do this. He knew his arms were strong, and if he could just get in the right position, maybe…
He planted his hands firmly on the bed, tried to pull himself up a little, then breathed in sharply at the pain in his shoulders. No, he wasn't going to be able to do this. What had he been thinking? What if he had tried, then ended up on the floor?
Although… perhaps if he wasn't so stiff and sore, and perhaps if the bed was a little lower, and the arms of his chair didn't get in the way quite so much…
For now though, he would just have to wait for Mary.
It seemed like an age before she came, and Matthew was half asleep when she finally opened the door slowly and quietly, and came in, expecting to find her husband asleep in bed. She looked tired and bedraggled, but smiled faintly when she saw him. Then she frowned and looked worried as she took in the fact that he was still up.
"Why aren't you in bed darling?" she asked.
"I didn't want to ring in case William was asleep. And of course none of us could have gone to bed until there was news. How are Sybil and the baby?" Matthew asked tiredly.
"Sybil doesn't look too good, but she's alive, and Dr Clarkson thinks she'll recover as long as there's no infection. He says she'll sleep until at least mid-morning. The baby is beautiful and perfectly healthy, thank goodness, although she is small. Come on, let's go to bed, or I'll fall asleep on my feet. And you need to get out of that chair right now."
Mary pulled off her dress impatiently and lay it on a chair, then kicked off her shoes.
"Help me out of my corset," she asked, and Matthew released her from the tight, uncomfortable whalebone. She was too tired to change her undergarments for her nightgown, or to take her hair down and brush and braid it. Matthew took off his bow tie and his jacket, then let Mary help him onto the bed. He lay down and closed his eyes, too tired to change into pyjamas. Mary flopped down next to him and they were both asleep in seconds, on top of the sheets rather than under them.
Everyone slept in the next morning after the long, terrifying night. Mary rang for Anna at nearly eleven, later than she had risen in as long as she could remember. Even after sleeping until then, she was tired, and when she went to look at herself in the mirror, she saw she had dark circles under her eyes. She almost laughed at her appearance, with her hair still up like at had been the night before, although it was far less tidy, and her beautiful silk and lace undergarments creased. She dressed quickly in plain, comfortable clothes, then woke Matthew. He was obviously tired too. His cheeks had lost the tentative pink that had been slowly creeping back into them after his illness, and Mary found herself worrying about him almost as much as she was worrying about Sybil. She ought to have made him go to bed before she had left for the hospital the night before.
She made him stay in bed lying on his stomach when she went to the hospital to see how Sybil was, and he was tired enough not to object, falling asleep again when she left and after William had helped him change into his pyjamas.
Mary found Sybil awake but groggy and weak when she arrived at the hospital. She had a private room, which was actually rather nice for a hospital, with a large window that would have let the sunlight in if the curtains weren't drawn. Tom was holding her hand and talking to her, although she only seemed to be taking in about half of what he was saying. Cora stood up from her seat at Sybil's side and spoke to Mary for a minute, but was then driven back to Downton Abbey, having had no sleep at all.
Mary went over and sat on the edge of Sybil's bed and took up her other hand.
"Mary?" Sybil murmured.
"Yes, it's me darling. How are you feeling?"
"Awful. I'm still sleepy from the anaesthetic, and my stomach feels… odd. I assume it's going to start hurting quite a lot soon," Sybil said, and she managed a weak smile. "But you must see the baby. She's so beautiful and perfect, I can't believe she came out of me."
"I can, because you're beautiful and perfect," Tom said, squeezing Sybil's hand.
"Oh Tom, honestly," Sybil said. "Will you get the baby? I want to hold her and show her to Mary."
Tom let go of her hand reluctantly and picked the baby up from the bassinet beside the bed. He held her as if she might break at any moment and laid her on the bed next to Sybil, who shifted her arm a little to hold her daughter. Mary looked at the baby in awe at the perfection and smallness of her every feature and limb. She had never seen so young a baby before, and hadn't known quite how tiny they were at that age. Last night, she had been so relieved that Sybil and the baby had survived, she had hardly noticed, but now she felt she was looking at the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"She's beautiful," she breathed, reaching out to touch her miniature hand. The baby squirmed and kicked her legs and Mary watched, entranced. "Have you thought about names?"
"We were thinking about Emmeline, and now we've seen her, we think it suits her," Tom said, watching his daughter happily.
"Let me guess," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "After Emmeline Pankhurst. Papa won't be pleased."
"She's not Papa's to name, she is ours. And if he asks, we're going to tell him that she's named after Tom's great aunt Emmeline; I don't want to argue with him," Sybil said, a faint smile playing about her lips, although her eyes were closed.
"I don't have a great aunt called Emmeline," Tom said, confused.
"I know that. But Papa doesn't." Sybil smiled, looking pleased with herself.
Tom shook his head in mock disapproval, but he was smiling. "As a second name, Sybil is set on Saoirse. As it happens, I like it, but heaven help me if I didn't," he said, taking Sybil's hand in his.
Mary smiled. "Is that from that book of Irish names you were reading obsessively, Sybil?"
"Yes. It means freedom or liberty. It can mean freedom and independence for Ireland for Tom, and liberty for women for me."
"Emmeline Saoirse Branson. It does sound fine," Tom said, stroking Emmeline's fluffy hair.
Then a nurse came and told them, in a voice that meant it was not up for debate, that Sybil needed to be left alone to rest. Tom had to tear himself away, wishing he didn't have to leave his wife and daughter. But Sybil was tired, and Emmeline needed to be fed, so Tom allowed Mary to lead him away.
When they reached home, Mary had to force him to go to bed. He was clearly exhausted, but elation at becoming a father and concern for Sybil meant he doubted he would be able to sleep. When Mary had bullied him into going to his room though, his bed looked so appealing, he lay down and was soon asleep.
Mary, feeling pleased with herself, went to check on Matthew. She found him still asleep, snoring softly. She smiled, but couldn't help feeling a familiar concern for him. He had been in his chair far too long yesterday, and according to William, he had a couple of red spots that would need watching carefully. He had never had a pressure sore, and she meant to keep it that way.
Deciding there was nothing she could do now, Mary picked up a book, sat down on the window seat, and lost herself in her novel.
It was mid-afternoon when she finally heard Matthew stirring. She put down her book and went to perch on the bed next to him.
"Good afternoon, sleepy head," she murmured affectionately, running her hand through his hair.
"Afternoon? What time is it?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow.
Mary checked his wristwatch, which was on the bedside table. "Almost three. You must be starving, having missed breakfast and luncheon."
"Three? I've been asleep for hours! Why didn't you wake me?" he asked.
"You needed your sleep," Mary replied firmly. "If you weren't tired, you would have woken up of your own accord. Anyway, everyone else has been in bed today; it was a very long night last night."
"How's Sybil? And the baby?"
"Sybil is tired and sore, and I expect it will be a while before she's allowed home, but Dr Clarkson thinks she's going to be alright, thank God. So far there's no sign of infection, and she didn't lose a dangerous amount of blood. The baby is perfectly healthy, and they've named her Emmeline Saoirse. Emmeline for Emmeline Pankhurst, but in case anyone asks, they're saying it's for Tom's great aunt, just to stop Papa making a fuss."
Matthew chuckled softly. "Trust Sybil. Could you help me turn over?"
Mary stood up, pulled back the covers and was about to help him roll onto his back when she paused. "I think I ought to check for pressure sores. William said there were a couple of spots that looked a bit –what was the word he used? – oh yes, dodgy." She smiled. "I'm sure you're fine, but I still need to check."
Matthew sighed. In all honesty, he had expected this; he had certainly been up far too long yesterday. But still, it was irritating.
Mary helped him pull down his pyjama trousers, and bit her lip when she saw what William had meant. The skin wasn't broken, but there were red patches that worried her.
"Mary?" Matthew asked when she was silent. He twisted around, trying to see, but the awkward position hurt his back and he had to give up.
"It could be worse," she said, trying to calm herself and stop Matthew from worrying. "Although it's hard to tell. Oh, I'm such a fool! I should have made you go to bed last night before I left. I…"
Matthew reached out for her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Mary, listen to me. You need to stop blaming yourself for everything. It is my body, and I am responsible for myself." He paused. "How... how bad is it?"
Mary took a deep breath and tried to remember everything Isobel had told her. She forced herself to calm down and be objective and sensible, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised it wasn't any worse than anything they had dealt with before. "Not too bad, thank goodness. You're not getting up for long today though, and we'll have to see about tomorrow."
Matthew sighed, partly in relief and partly in frustration that he was going to be stuck in bed again.
"Am I allowed to sit up to eat, at least?" he asked resignedly.
"Yes, but not for long. I'll ring for something, shall I?"
"Yes please. I'm starving."
Mary realised that she too was hungry, as she had missed dinner the night before, and had had no luncheon, so when Anna came, she asked for food for herself too.
They passed a pleasant afternoon and early evening together. Mary put record after record on the gramophone and opened the door between the bedroom and the sitting room where the gramophone was, so they could hear the music. They ate slowly, feeding each other in a manner so ridiculous, it made them laugh almost hysterically. Then, with Matthew lying on his stomach again, Mary read to him.
They didn't join the family for dinner, but they went to join them briefly in the drawing room afterwards. No one stayed up for long. Cora and Tom were still exhausted, Robert was still suffering the effects of drinking what was, even for him, a very large amount of whiskey the night before, and Matthew needed to lie down again.
As William was helping him change into his pyjamas, Matthew observed that the bed in his dressing room was quite noticeably lower than the bed in the bedroom, and he wondered again about trying to get from his chair to his bed and back without help. Last night had reminded him just how dependent he was on others, and he didn't like it. So when he was dressed in his pyjamas and was ready to go next door to Mary, and William asked if he was ready to be lifted back into his chair, he shook his head.
"I've been thinking, William," he said slowly, "that perhaps I might be able to learn to manage on my own."
William stared at him blankly.
"I mean, the bed in here is lower than in our bedroom, and I've never even tried, so I thought it might be worth a go. It would make things so much easier if I could," Matthew continued.
William suddenly realised what Matthew meant, and he grinned excitedly. "I'm sure you could, you know. Maybe not right away, but I don't see why you couldn't learn. I never even thought about it. Do you want to try now?"
Matthew bit his lip, suddenly nervous, but he nodded. "Is the brake on my chair? Because I can imagine it could go horribly wrong if it wasn't."
William checked and nodded, then went to stand in front of Matthew. Neither of them really knew how this was going to work, but now, they were both excited to try.
"It's not far off the same height. And at least this way, gravity is in my favour," Matthew said. "Right, if I try to slide myself across, can you hold me without taking too much of my weight? Just catch me if things don't go well."
William nodded and stood so he was ready to help if needed. "I'm sure you can do it, sir. Are you ready?"
"Yes. Promise not to laugh if things don't go to plan?"
"Of course not sir," William said, his expression so comically serious, Matthew knew he was not being serious at all.
"I'll pretend to believe you. Alright. One… two… three."
Next door, Mary was sitting at her dressing table and talking to Anna about Sybil and Tom's choice of names for the baby. They were suddenly startled from their conversation when they heard Matthew swear loudly.
Mary stood up quickly as she called, "Matthew? Are you alright?" Matthew never swore, or at least, not in her hearing, so it worried her.
"I'm fine, Mary, don't worry. I dropped something is all. Sorry, I didn't mean to… sorry. I'll be through in a minute," he called back hastily.
Mary frowned, unconvinced, and was thinking of going through to check that he really was alright, when the door opened and he came into the room, smiling reassuringly. He came over to her and reached out for her hand.
"I'm sorry, darling. I dropped a book on the floor, and of course I couldn't reach it. I didn't mean to alarm you." He didn't want to lie to her, but neither did he want to tell her what he had been trying to do, and that if William hadn't caught him, he would have ended up on the floor. He knew she would worry and fuss, and tell him not to try again.
Although it hadn't been disastrous. He was still tired from the night before, so maybe if he had been at his best, it might have gone better. With practise, it seemed likely he would manage. Perhaps if he continued to work on it with William, he could surprise his wife one day.
When Mary helped him onto the bed, he thought about how he might manage on his own. Mary was still looking at him as if she didn't quite believe his explanation, but when he kissed her, she seemed to forget about anything except kissing him back with equal passion, and he did the same.
Sybil was kept in the hospital for the next three weeks, and little Emmeline stayed with her. It took longer than expected for her blood pressure to return to normal, and although she was healing well after the operation, the danger of infection would not be gone until she was healed enough to have her stitches out. Tom spent every hour he was permitted with them, marvelling at the tiny person he and Sybil had created from nothing but their love. He was profoundly relieved that Sybil was alright after facing the possibility that he might lose her, and he worried whenever he was not with her. It was only after the birth that Dr Clarkson had explained quite how dangerous it had been, and how lucky Sybil was.
When she came home, she was well enough to walk from the car to the house, supported by Tom. She went straight to sit down on the sofa in the library, and Tom fussed about with cushions until he was certain she was perfectly comfortable. The rest of the family gathered around her, glad to see her home. Emmeline was taken upstairs in the care of the nanny Robert had insisted on hiring. Sybil had tried to protest that she wanted to look after her own baby, but it was clear even to her that she wasn't really well enough to do this without help.
Cora sat next to her daughter and stroked her hair fondly.
"I'm so glad to have you home, Sybil darling," she said gently.
"We all are," Robert said. "You have to stop doing this to me, all of you."
"Doing what, Papa?" Sybil asked.
"Worrying me like this. In the last two years, Matthew was badly injured in the war, then only a few weeks ago had us all terrified when he had pneumonia, Cora nearly died of Spanish flu, and now this. I don't think I could stand it again," he replied, speaking as if he was joking, although he was actually being rather serious. The terror that someone he loved might die was becoming horribly familiar, but no easier to bear.
There was a few seconds silence. Mary reached out for Matthew's hand and Cora shuddered.
The silence was broken when Thomas appeared with the tea tray, and the atmosphere lightened. The conversation turned to more cheerful topics.
"Rose is coming to stay soon," Cora announced.
"Oh really? When?" Sybil asked excitedly.
"July sometime, although I can't remember the exact date. Your Grandmother knows," Cora replied, smiling at Sybil's excitement. She and Rose were relatively close in age and had always been friends as girls.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think Tom and I are quite up to speed on all the friends and relations," Matthew said apologetically, trying to remember whether Mary had mentioned someone called Rose, or if he'd seen her at his or Edith's wedding.
"Lady Rose MacClare. She's our second cousin. She's seventeen, I think, and she lives in Scotland. Her father, Lord Flintshire, was at Edith's wedding, but for some reason I can't remember, Rose and her mother couldn't come."
Matthew tried to remember Lord Flintshire, but there had been so many distant relatives at Edith's wedding, almost all of them Lords and Ladies, he couldn't remember him.
"We all call him Shrimpy," Robert said, and Matthew suddenly remembered him; a gruff man, past middle age, who wore a kilt to the wedding.
"Yes, I remember now."
"Is she staying here?" Sybil asked.
"No, with your grandmother," Cora replied.
"Golly. Granny will get a shock," Sybil said, remembering Rose's liveliness, vivacity and love of anything modern and new. Seeing Granny's reaction to the great niece she hadn't seen in over a decade would be amusing. "I can't wait to see Rose again. It's been ages."
Tom frowned slightly. He wanted to get back to Ireland as soon as Sybil was well. Of course they would stay for a while, but he was eager to get home and show the baby to his family. He also wanted her christened in Ireland, and christened as a Catholic. And they couldn't wait forever.
Sybil, always sensitive to his emotions, sensed what he was thinking.
"We don't have to go back quite yet, Tom. I know you want to get back to Ireland, but I won't be fit to travel for a while, and a few weeks after that won't make much difference, surely?"
Tom sighed, but looked at her reassuringly.
"We won't go back a day before you want to," he said.
Robert was pleasantly surprised at Tom's thoughtfulness. He had expected arguments about how long they would stay, but it seemed Sybil was in control. He smiled to himself. How could it have been any other way, with Sybil as headstrong as she always had been?
Later, when they were lying in bed together for the first time in what felt like an age, Sybil could tell that something was bothering Tom. She guessed that he probably didn't want to bother her with it because he thought she needed to rest. It was true that she was tired, but she was not going to get any rest until she knew what was worrying her husband.
"Tom? What are you worrying about?" she asked.
"What? Nothing. Go to sleep, my love," he replied too quickly. He kissed her, then lay back.
"Tom. Tell me."
He sighed, then, as Sybil had expected him to, he told her what was worrying him.
"The christening. If we're to stay here too long, it will have to be here. My family won't be there, and… Sybil, will your family even let us christen Emmeline as a Catholic?"
Sybil sighed. She should have thought. She had been so absorbed in Emmeline, and then excitement to see her cousin again, she hadn't thought about the implications of staying at Downton. Before, she has assumed that she would just have the baby here, stay until she could travel, then go back to Ireland. But if they were to stay to see Rose, it would be a while before they could go home, and she knew Tom wanted Emmeline christened fairly soon.
"Surely we can wait until we're home? I know it will be a few weeks longer than we expected before she can be christened, but that doesn't matter does it? Because you're right, Papa will hate it, and nobody else will be exactly… pleased. Of course we could get our own way in the end, but I don't think it's worth the arguing. And I really would rather have it done at home."
Tom thought for a minute, then nodded. Then he smiled brightly and kissed Sybil suddenly.
Although being kissed like that was very pleasant, Sybil raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What did I do to deserve that?" she asked when Tom drew away, still smiling.
"You called Ireland 'home', and you truly want to go back. You have no idea how happy that makes me," he replied, sounding elated.
"Oh Tom, of course Dublin is my home. Our home. How could you think otherwise?"
"I… wondered. I know you like coming to Downton, and I know you miss your family."
"Of course I miss my family, but I never expected to stay here forever. I do love it here, but I'm not Mary; there was never any question of my marrying Patrick, or inheriting anything even if the entail was broken, so I was always going to leave when I married. Although… yes, for a while, I still thought of here as home. Then I felt as if I had two homes for a time. But now… now, I am certain that we, you, me and Emmeline, belong in Ireland. I'm as homesick for Dublin as I was for Downton when we were first married. I do want to go back, Tom, and we will have the Christening there. But let's stay until after the cricket match. That's not too far in the future, and it gives us a definite time to leave by. I can't go home without spending a decent amount of time with Rose. I haven't seen her for so long, and who knows when we'll see her again?"
"Alright. I'll write to my mother to explain, and we'll stay until after the cricket match," Tom said decisively.
Sybil snuggled up closer to Tom and he put his arms around her. "I do love you, you know. So very much," she said softly.
"As I love you," he replied. "Oh Sybil, I've been so frightened. I thought I was going to lose you. And now you are getting better, and we have Emmeline. I never thought I could be so happy."
"I'm glad I have made you happy, because you have made me happier than I ever imagined I could be." Sybil yawed suddenly.
"Sleep now, my love," Tom said softly.
"Goodnight Tom."
"Goodnight Sybil."
Sybil fell asleep almost immediately, but Tom lay awake for over an hour, simply listening to her breathing, each breath providing proof that she was here, alive, recovering. He didn't truly believe in miracles, but having a healthy wife and child certainly felt miraculous.