Thanks again to my readers, suscribers, and reviewers! Only 2 more chapters of "Volume One" (season 1) left! Which brings us to a moment many of you have told me you've been waiting anxiously for...THE GARDEN PARTY! I hope you enjoy, and please, let me know what you think! I always appreciate hearing from readers, it really helps my muse. Thanks!

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lavender and cream.

They were two colors he never gave much thought to, but after today, he would be forever fond of them.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched her move, a gentle summer breeze rolling across the fabric of her cream-colored dress, and the tiny lavender designs that adorned it, reminding him of flowers rippling in a windy field. It wasn't one of her finest dresses, and really, could anything compare to her harem pants? Still, he thought it suited her, perhaps more so than any other dress he had seen her in. Soft and gentle, but free and beautiful…just like her.

"Be careful my lad…"

He had just taken a deep breath, forcing himself to look away and return back to the house from where he had come, when he was stopped short by the Scottish housekeeper who stood in front of him, like the formidable wall that surrounded a fortress.

Another sigh escaped his lips as he met the woman's eyes. Here we go, he thought. She was going to tell him off, he knew it; best to just grin and bear it.

"…or you'll end up with no job and a broken heart."

That wasn't quite what he had been expecting.

On the outside, he forced a tiny smile, his eyes never leaving those of Mrs. Hughes. His body was rigid and his hands were clasped tightly behind his back. His voice didn't betray any of the emotion that was raging inside of him, as he murmured back, "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Hughes tilted her head slightly, her eyes examining him with such intensity that it did cause his jaw to clench and his heart to flinch. Then, a soft sigh escaped her lips, and the sound could only be described as one of disappointment.

She didn't say anything further. There was no accusing tirade or warning speech telling him he ought to know better and shame on him for forgetting himself…

Nothing of the sort. She simply gave her head a tiny shake…and then walked away.

Outside, he remained calm and collected.

Inside…his head and his heart were at war.

YOU IDIOT! How could you be so careless?

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, as if the summer air could calm his rapidly beating heart. Even though his rational side had surrendered in the war of his emotions, that didn't mean it happily remained silent. Every so often, his rational side would berate him for displaying foolish behavior…like just now. However, no amount of warning or berating, be it from Mrs. Hughes or the rational part of his brain, could silence the cries of his heart in that moment…

SHE TOOK MY HAND!

A ghost of a smile spread across his face as he recalled the sweet memory of her small, soft fingers, lacing with his. God almighty, he was trembling! He opened his eyes and looked down at his hand, noticing how it quaked. He had a suspicion that the only thing to stop it would be the feel of her fingers once again.

He lifted his eyes and dared to look across the lawn, trying to find her in the sea of white and cream. Did posh people always wear those colors to garden parties? Mrs. Hughes had told her that her Ladyship was asking after her, but Branson knew that it had been an excuse to remove the two of them from one another. Still, he searched for the Countess, knowing that if he could spot her, Sybil would be close by. Instead, his eyes caught those of Gwen's, who was grinning from ear to ear, her entire body trembling in giddy excitement. He couldn't help but grin back and nod his head, to which she quickly returned the nod, before going about whatever task she had to do. "Only a few more days," he couldn't help but murmur, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him. Only a few more days of wearing the uniform of a housemaid, only a few more days of doing the things that housemaids did; only a few more days…until she could finally begin living her dream.

It had finally happened, just as Sybil declared it would, just as Sybil never stopped believing it would.

Ah, Sybil. God, how hard and how quickly and how deeply he had fallen.

It was good to finally have something to be smiling about. The last few days had been filled with more tragedy and trepidation than a person should have to face in a single year. It had only been eight days ago that her Ladyship fell and lost the baby, which now everyone knew would have been the future Earl of Grantham, had he survived. It had also only been eight days ago that the world went utterly mad. Austria declared war on Serbia, and then five days later, Germany declared war on Russia. And yesterday, Germany invaded Belgium, as well as declared war on France. Where was this madness to end? The answer chilled his heart.

But now was not the time for questions or concerns; the garden party must go on! So here they all were, the Downton staff running in and out of the kitchens, serving iced cakes and cucumber sandwiches to these look-alike snobs, who were either laughing or making various comments on the weather…and completely ignoring the impending doom that was possibly facing them.

He wanted no part of it, and was thankful that as chauffeur he wasn't expected to make an appearance. He had planned on keeping himself locked away in his cottage, lost in one of his books…but the need to see her was constantly pressing on his chest.

They hadn't had the chance to talk much, not since that awful day. Sybil, naturally, spent a large amount of her time by her mother's side, doing whatever odd job she could, doing anything to help ease the emotional burden that weighed down on the Countess' heart. He smiled as he recalled something he had overheard Mrs. Hughes say to Mr. Carson. "That girl has an extraordinary gift; she has done far more for her Ladyship than any amount of medical care Dr. Clarkson can perform." He needed no convincing; Branson had long since believed that Sybil's very presence was the best medicine for any ailment.

And that was what he needed. With everything that had happened this week and could possibly happen in the weeks to come, he needed to be reminded that there was something good and pure in this world, and seeing her face would do just that. So he left his cottage and wandered into the kitchens, trying to think of some excuse for attending the party. He just needed to see her face, that was all; perhaps he could "help" one of the kitchen maids by carrying a heavy tray outside? But his thoughts were interrupted by a shrill ringing from the butler's pantry.

"Lord, listen to that!" Mrs. Patmore exclaimed to Mrs. Bird, before equating the sound to that of a banshee.

Branson came around the corner and looked at the two cooks who were just staring at the ringing contraption with a mixture of fascination and horror. "Mr. Carson's telephone is ringing," he pointed out. The women continued staring. "Well…aren't you going to answer it?"

Mrs. Patmore seemed to momentarily come out of her stupor and looked up at Branson in utter dismay at his question. "I wouldn't touch that thing with a ten-foot pole!"

Branson groaned and shook his head. "Well I will then," he grumbled, irritated that he was being kept from his task. He stalked into the pantry and not so gently grabbed the slender base of the phone, before yanking the earpiece to his head and answering the voice on the other side. Naturally whoever it was wanted to speak to Mr. Carson. "No, Mr. Carson's busy…but can I take a message?"

He nearly dropped the earpiece as the message was relayed to him. "T-t-thank you," he stammered, joy flooding his body at Mr. Bromidge's parting words. "Yes…yes, I will make sure she gets the message," he promised, before hanging up. He didn't need to create an excuse; he had a wonderful reason to find Lady Sybil and tell her everything he had just learned!

And so he quickly threw on his livery jacket, smoothed his hair down in an effort of trying to look as "presentable" as possible, and rushed out of the kitchens, his eyes spanning across the sea of cream suits and white dresses.

It didn't take him long to spot her; he had her figure burned to his memory.

He couldn't help but grin as he rushed over to where she stood. She looked so bored, listening to Lady Edith and two other young women go on and on about something. He slowed his pace just before he approached her, trying to look distinguished to her companions, but he couldn't stop smiling. "I've got news, milady!" he whispered, an excited air in his voice. Sybil turned her head, surprised to see him there, and he swore his heart skipped at the little relieved smile she bestowed upon him. He leaned down, whispering his news in her ear, catching the scent of her lilac perfume. How tempting it was to bury his face in her hair, to lose himself in that scent, to feel the softness of her skin, to run his mouth along her jaw until he found her lips…

"OH!" Sybil gasped, bringing him back from his fantasy. He didn't mind; it was worth it seeing the joy he felt reflected in her beautiful eyes.

Her sister and their two friends looked confused, and were about to ask what was going on, but Sybil simply gave them a little apologetic smile, before nudging his elbow to follow her. As if he needed convincing; he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked. He couldn't help but laugh as their joy took hold, and she joined him with one of her sweet giggles, the two of them jogging quickly to where a certain redheaded housemaid stood, but a few feet away.

"You've done it, Gwen!" Sybil practically burst. "Mr. Bromidge just rung, you got the job!"

Branson simply stood there, grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. He was so happy for his friend, so happy that after everything that had happened there was still something good and hopeful to believe in.

The look on Gwen's face was precious. She stared in shock as the words washed over her. But it didn't take her long for the realization of what was being said to sink in. "OH!" she gasped, just as Sybil had done when he told her the news. Another maid was passing, and Gwen all but thrust the tray she was holding into the other girl's hands. "TAKE IT, TAKE IT!" she practically squealed. As soon as her hands were free, Gwen let out a shriek of happy delight and without warning, launched herself at both him and Sybil.

The two of them laughed as they caught her, their arms encircling her and with a little help, Branson was able to swing her up off the ground. Her reaction was instantly contagious, for Branson couldn't help but put his other arm around Sybil, and she, much to his delight, did the same. It had only been a moment, the three of them laughing and hugging each other, but it was a blessed moment.

That was when Mrs. Hughes interrupted.

"Something to celebrate?"

To say that her question had a barking, disapproving edge to it would be an understatement. Still, no amount of frowns or harsh warnings would be enough to wipe the joyful smiles from their faces as they all but reluctantly, released each other.

Or so he thought…

Gwen began to explain, why she was so happy, what she had just learned that had caused her to forget herself, and Branson was standing tall and pleased, grinning with such pride as he listened to Gwen share her good news—and then, without warning…he felt something small and soft enfold his hand…

The world fell away then.

Had his hand been moving as well? He wasn't sure, but he supposed it had. He supposed in that moment of pride, his hand had purposefully moved towards hers, but it was her hand that had found his, and it was her hand that had taken his, and it was her hand that had initiated the lacing of their fingers…

And it was her hand that had squeezed his back.

If lightning suddenly gathered, and chose at that moment to strike him dead…he would die a happy man.

He turned slightly to Sybil, his eyes looking down at their laced fingers. She was looking there too. He looked up and caught her gaze then, her beautiful lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. He felt his heart lift and soar, and for the first time since coming to terms with his feelings for the youngest Crawley daughter, he actually believed that perhaps it was possible…that she could love a man like him. Before he even realized it, words were coming out of his mouth. "I don't suppose—"

"Lady Sybil!" Once again, Mrs. Hughes interrupted.

What had he been about to say? As much as he argued with his rationality, it did keep him from putting his foot in his mouth. Good God, had he been about to tell her everything?

"I don't suppose you could love a man like me? A servant, a working class Irishman, a hot-headed socialist? I know it seems that I have nothing to offer, certainly not a title or an estate or a mountain of money…but I can offer you love and passion, and a promise that I will work my fingers to bone to make you happy and never regret choosing me…"

As much as he blamed Mrs. Hughes for bringing them back to reality, he was grateful that she had stopped him from making an absolute, complete arse of himself.

Still, he couldn't help but smile, even though he had to bite his lip from showing it when Sybil gave him an annoyed look at Mrs. Hughes' insistence that she go to her mother now, of all moments. And as soon as Sybil was gone, that was when the housekeeper cornered him, giving him that infamous warning…to which he responded as oblivious as possible.

Go on, he thought, both to Mrs. Hughes and his rational side; really, to the whole world. Say I'm a fool, call me an idiot, and tell me what you will about me being too far beneath her…the truth is, she took my hand…

He watched as Gwen hurried over to Anna, knowing full well what she was telling her friend. Not too far beyond them stood Bates and Mr. Matthew's valet, Mr. Moseley; they appeared to be engaged in a rather intense discussion, though both seemed to have their eyes locked on Anna's back. Out of the corner of his eye, Branson saw Daisy scurry with a tray full of ices. She passed the tray onto William, before giving the young footman a smile that could only be described as one of adoration. William blushed, and Branson couldn't help but chuckle, especially when he noticed Thomas pass the two of them. William boasted a proud smirk and Branson knew exactly why; on the night of her Ladyship's miscarriage, William and Thomas finally had it out. The remnants of Thomas' black eye had all but faded, but if you squinted, you could still manage see a shadow of it. Indeed, just as Branson had muttered to William after the fight, "the bastard had it coming."

And just beyond all of them…he saw the large tent where her Ladyship rested…and next to her sat Sybil. She was holding her mother's hand, and said something that caused her Ladyship to laugh. Indeed, Sybil had done more for her mother than anything Dr. Clarkson could have done. She seemed a real natural when it came to caring for others, like Florence Nightengale.

Mr. Carson was heading towards the tent where the Earl now resided by her Ladyship, carrying a small, silver tray. Branson briefly caught the bulter's eye, and knew that was his cue to make a hasty exit before any questions were asked to why he was at the party in the first place. He turned on his heel and quickly retreated back to the house, his hand tingling and his smile never wavering for a second.

Hope. Despite everything that had happened within the last few days, despite the odds that were stacked against him because of his position in society in ever achieving any of his dreams…he felt hope. And all because Lady Sybil Crawley had reached out, and taken his hand.

He had just reached the kitchen entrance and was about to retreat inside, when he noticed the music had stopped. A chill ran down his spine and he turned back towards the party, his brow creased with confusion…and a sudden wave of dread.

Lord Grantham was waving his arms, drawing everyone's attention. Branson could see a tiny piece of paper clutched within his Lordship's fingers, but it was the sight of his Lordship's face that caused his heart to plummet.

"My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen…can I ask for silence? Because I very much regret to announce…that we are at war with Germany."

For all you history lovers out there, here are the WWI dates mentioned in this chapter:
July 28...WWI officially begins with Austria declaring war on Serbia
August 1...Germany declares war on Russia
August 3...Germany invades Belgium and declares war on France
August 4...England declares war on Germany...
...and we all know where this will lead. THANKS FOR READING!