A/N Well I think we are finally at the penultimate chapter (possibly, there might be two more depending on how dastardly Richard Baldy Carlisle decides to be.

I think you may be ok with this one. I don't feel that valerium or smelling salts will be required. It's all getting jolly 'DUN DUN DUUUUUN!"

Thank you once again for all your kind words and encouragement. It really means the world to me, so thank you, thank you, thank you.

Enjoy. x

Tom Branson watched his wife sleep. She looked peaceful. It had had been a long time since he had seen her look that way. Normally in her sleep she would toss and turn, but here at Downton, she finally seemed to be rested.

It had been a mad evening. Arriving at the Abbey, they had just been reunited with Michael and the family before Matthew, Lady Mary and Sybil had rushed off to Anna's aid. It was typical of her, one of the reasons he loved her so much.

Michael had clung to his neck as she had dashed away. She'd turned briefly and blown a kiss, and then she was gone.

Edith and her young man had already disappeared and the Dowager Countess and the Countess were already rounding on Lady Carlisle like a pair of wolves. That just left Tom, Michael and Sybil's father. The twins stood a way off on the grass, Lily-beth beckoning to Michael.

"Why don't you go and play with your cousins for a little while?" Branson said lowering Michael to the ground.

"You and Ma will still be here?" The little boy asked, looking at his father owlishly.

Tom gave a quick glance towards his father-in-law. "We are not going anywhere, I promise."

This seemed to satisfy the child, who turned and ran to the other children.

The Earl had indicated that he should go into the house.

In the library Tom felt stiff and out of place. He had not been alone with the Earl since... not since the man had tried to pay him to stay out of Sybil's life. That seemed a million years ago now.

"I know it's early... but I need a drink." Robert said crossing to the sideboard. He waved the decanter at Branson in question. The former chauffeur nodded quickly. He felt as though he was standing to attention.

"Do relax man. You are, after all..." Robert paused as if he couldn't quite believe he was saying this. "part of the family."

It was awkward too for the Earl. He had been grateful to Branson for his help in clearing Bates, and he believed he had shown that gratitude, and acceptance. But on every other occasion he had been in the mans company, Matthew had always been present. It was as though his heir was a bridge between the two, able to relate to Branson and himself because they could not relate to each other. Now they found themselves in just that situation, they had to get along.

The uncomfortable silence stretched on as Robert handed his son-in-law a tumbler of whisky. He sipped and regarded the younger man. Branson held his gaze, unwilling to be intimidated.

"I understand they found the group who was really responsible for the bomb?" Robert said eventually.

"Yes, a group called the Fenian men." Tom took a large mouthful from his glass and grimaced as the liquid hit the back of his throat.

The Earl smiled. "Scotch I'm afraid, not as smooth as the Irish."

Tom coughed, but returned the smile. "You should try some Potcheen, that would really put hairs on your chest."

He took another sip.

"Look... Tom... I know things have been difficult for you and Sybil, and this exile must be..."

"I can never go back again." Tom said sadly as if the realisation had only just dawned on him.

"Because of Sybil you have lost your home..."

Tom looked the Early squarely in the eye. "No... you don't understand. It will be hard not to be part of Ireland's future, but Sybil and Michael, they are my home."

Robert nodded. "I want you to know that I will do anything I can to help."

Tom opened his mouth but was interrupted.

"Before you refuse, it is nothing more than I would do for Matthew, or indeed will do for James, so please do not feel it is condescension of any kind. I know you want to make your own way in the world and I respect that, but it would be a great boon to me if you would allow me to help. I feel my conscience would benefit."

It was then Tom Branson realised how difficult it had been for the Earl. Now that Tom had Michael he had realised first hand the protectiveness of a father... had he not worried the Crawley twins would not accept his boy? He should have realised the children of a man like Matthew would have better manners, but still his own prejudices had blinded him. Now perhaps it was time to really accept that he was part of this family. So he had shook Robert's hand and he felt a new chapter beginning.

Now, as he watched his wife sleep, Tom wondered once again what the future would hold.

Sybil stared and opened her eyes. "Mmmm." She said closing them again. Immediately they sprung back open as her hand came up to touch Tom's face.

"What are you doing?" he laughed.

"I am checking you are not a dream." She replied.

He bent his head to plant a kiss upon her lips.

"Does that feel like a dream?" He asked.

She shook her head smiling and pulling him towards her, pulled the eiderdown up over them.

Richard Carlisle reclined in his office chair with his hands behind his head and gazed out of the window. He had expected more from her. Some kind of reaction to the story... a telephone call... the husband coming in here blustering and threatening legal action... even an outraged Lady Mary Crawley herself, but nothing had been forthcoming.

Stevens had been a surprise, and he was furious with Cecily for having the presumption to let the woman go, but still, what did it matter, in fact it could even work to his favour. He would simply claim that the story was due to her being a vengeful former employee if the worst came to the worst. The retraction had been printed, small and inconsequential, and Richard should have been feeling vindicated, his desire for revenge sated. Strangely he did not. No reaction. It left a hollow, bitter taste in his mouth. He had printed the most dastardly scandal and there had been nothing. The whole thing confused him greatly.

Of course Cecily had been beside herself. He knew that she had travelled back to Yorkshire, and he had also been steadfastly dodging any attempts that she had made to contact him. In fact he almost expected her to walk through that door at any moment.

He wished he knew what Lady Mary was thinking, how Crawley had reacted. Were the cracks in their marriage being widened to epic proportions? How soon, Richard wondered, before he could contact her... a week, a month? She would be angry, the question is how long before that anger subsided and she saw he was just being cruel to be kind? She would see how this 'scandal' would set her free from her loveless boring marriage. It was just a matter of time.

He wished he still had eyes and ears around her. If only Stevens hadn't been so careless... or she had been able to recruit the new maid. It was frustrating not to know what was going on. Cecily would be no use... a small smile began to spread across his features. But he did know someone who would be aware exactly what was going on. The question was, given the circumstances, where would Lady Rosamund's loyalties lie.

The Lady in question was wondering that very same thing as her niece and her companion sat in her drawing room.

"What on earth leads you to believe that Richard will come here, or even contact me for that matter. The article was pretty inflammatory, and he must know that the family will be furious." She said sharply.

"But he will also not be able to resist not knowing the effect of his little stunt." Mary replied.

"Lady Mary is correct. Now that he no longer has a spy in the camp..." Cecily added.

"You mean you hope he doesn't?" Rosamund interrupted.

"There is no-one else." Mary said firmly. "Therefore, his desire for information will outweigh any qualms he may have."

"You hope." Rosamund said, her lips pursed, the very image of her mother.

"We know so." Cecily added, "It is basic psychology."

She looked from one visitor to the other.

"Come now Aunt Rosamund, you know how you love to be at the centre of any intrigue. Think of yourself as a kind of Mata Hari." Mary coaxed.

"And you are happy with this?" Rosamund's question was aimed squarely at Cecily.

Lady Carlisle glanced briefly at Mary before responding. "Perfectly happy."

Rosamund sighed in resignation. "In that case I really hope you know what you are doing, but I will help in whatever way I can."

"So you finally believe me?" James asked. He sat next to Edith on a bench in the grounds. She fiddled with the engagement ring awkwardly.

"Edith."

She nodded her head, but refused to look at him.

"Now can we please begin planning the wedding?"

"You must think me terribly silly and insecure?" She said, still twisting the ring around her finger.

James took her hand in his. "I don't think you insecure. You just did not realise how much I loved you, do love you. It's really very sweet."

"I just can't quite believe it." She said in a small voice.

"Edith, will you look at me?"

Finally she raised her head.

"Then it is up to me to make sure I spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Is that all right?"

She nodded her head shyly as James slipped the diamond ring back on her finger.

Matthew came in through the front door of Crawley house and, as he hung up his homburg, he was struck by the quiet within.

"Hello?"

Moseley's head appeared from the kitchen. "Good afternoon Sir, we were not expecting you home so soon."

"Right" Matthew said in some confusion. "Lady Mary and the children up at the Abbey?"

The butler hesitated. "The children are up at the Abbey. I believe in the absence of a Nanny Lady Sybil is entertaining them."

"I see, and Lady Mary?"

"Sir?"

It was painfully clear that this was not a question the butler wanted to answer.

"Lady Mary, where is she?"

"She is not at home Sir." Moseley said, his head disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Mr Moseley." Matthew said firmly. The butler reappeared looking somewhat sheepish. "I did not ask if Lady Mary was at home, I asked where Lady Mary was."

The poor man's face was an agony of indecision. Matthew felt for him, but he had a horrible sinking feeling and the more the butler stalled, the more his conviction grew.

"Very well Moseley, let me make this easy for you. Did Lady Mary tell you not to tell me where she had gone?"

With some relief the man nodded.

"Right, so I would be correct in thinking this has something to do with Sir Richard Carlisle?"

Again the man nodded.

"Uh, huh... so has Lady Mary gone to London to confront the man?"

His shoulders sagging in relief Moseley nodded his head vigorously.

"Then you have fulfilled your obligation to her Ladyship by not telling me. If however I have guessed that is a different matter."

Matthew turned on his heels and picked up his hat. Within moments he was on his way to the train station and he was not pleased.