THANK YOU to all the lovely reviews! I'm very touched by the kind words that were left, and I'm very happy that people are continueing to enjoy this story. I want to make a special shout-out to Syblime and who scolded me for having Branson end his letter by writing "Goodbye" ;o) I promised I had a reason, and you will see what I mean.

This was a fun chapter to write; I always wondered what college life was like for Sybil, so I decided to explore that with this chapter. I hope you enjoy it too! And without further ado...


Chapter Fifty-Two

Sybil was in a foul mood.

She needed to speak—no, complain—to Nurse Templeton about Nurse Andrews, her so-called "partner" at the hospital. "Partner—ha!" she muttered under her breath. "Slave driver is more like it."

Several weeks ago, Nurse Templeton had announced that each student would be assigned to work with a senior nurse at hospital, a nurse who would serve as their "partner", in training and overseeing and preparing them to one day become senior nurses themselves. Sybil was assigned to Nurse Andrews, a woman whom she had seen on many occasions, working specifically with the patients who were recent amputees. She remembered admiring Nurse Andrews, admiring her strength and calmness as she reassured these men who were mourning over their missing limbs. So when the assignment was announced, she was elated, and eagerly arrived a half-hour early for her shift at the hospital, anxious to learn and work with someone whom she had such high regard for.

Sadly, it didn't take long for that regard to begin plummeting.

Nurse Andrews looked at Sybil as if she were a beetle, crawling across one's sheets. For the first three days of their partnership, Nurse Andrews had Sybil do nothing but empty, clean, and empty again, all the chamber pots. Then, she had Sybil bleach, starch, and iron every bed sheet, and if she weren't satisfied with how they looked, she would send Sybil back to do them all over again. Sybil finally hoped that she would be learning something beyond cleaning a patient's sheets and chamber pot, when Nurse Andrews announced the other day that she would need her help in the hospital bathing room. She knew it was important to keep patients clean, and had helped Nurse Templeton with sponge-bathing a patient several weeks ago. But no, apparently Nurse Andrews wanted her to scrub the six bathing tubs until they sparkled…while she and a few other senior nurses had a cigarette break.

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness, milady," Nurse Andrews sweetly, and sarcastically, murmured as she thrust the sponge and bucket into Sybil's arms. Oh, if her eyes were daggers, Nurse Andrews would be clutching her back in pain!

Sybil scrubbed the bathing tubs all day, working her fingers raw in trying to get every last piece of dirt and blood and excrement off its surfaces. She missed supper because of her work (Nurse Andrews wouldn't allow her to leave until all six tubs were finished), but upon arriving that afternoon at the hospital, Nurse Andrews was standing at the door, waiting for her and holding the bucket and sponge.

"That was a piss-poor job, Crawley," Nurse Andrews muttered, while blowing cigarette smoke into Sybil's shocked face. "Three of those tubs I wouldn't wash a dog in." She thrust the bucket and sponge back into Sybil's arms. "Do it right, or I'll report your laziness to Nurse Templeton."

"Laziness!" Sybil sputtered, her shock giving way to frustration and anger.

"Aye," Nurse Andrews spat, throwing her cigarette butt on the ground, at Sybil's foot. "This isn't Downton Abbey, milady—no servants here to clean up your messes. Now do it right or I'll go and find Nurse Templeton and report you now!"

She turned on her heel, leaving a fuming Sybil in her wake. To make matters worse, Jane Hamley and her gaggle walked past her, giggling and murmuring, "poor little princess," in voices that held anything but sympathy.

Oh she wanted to scream!

Truly, for the first time since coming to York, she found herself questioning why she was there; what madness had taken control and brought her to this…this…this hellhole?

She scrubbed the tubs…again…and because Nurse Andrews didn't specify which three she thought were poor condition, she ended up scrubbing all six once more. She scrubbed until her nails were whittled to the quick and there were fat, ugly blisters on her fingers.

"Crawley!"

She jumped at the sound of her name echoing off the walls in the small, tiled room. She didn't have to turn around, she knew Nurse Templeton's bark from anywhere.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Sybil stared at the woman, thinking it was quite obvious to what she was doing. "I…I'm cleaning the tubs—"

"I can see that!" Nurse Templeton bellowed, looking frustrated and annoyed. "But why aren't you with Nurse Andrews?"

Confusion washed over Sybil's face, and she opened her mouth to answer, but the problem was…she had no answer to offer. "I…I was told—"

"Nurse Andrews has been working, all by herself, with changing patient's dressings for the past two hours! When I found her, I asked her why she didn't have you there to help her, and she told me to find you here!"

Sybil's head was swimming. Did Nurse Templeton understand that she was here under Nurse Andrews' orders? "I was told—"

"Yes, yes, I know! To wash the tubs, a job that should have been finished yesterday, if I understand Nurse Andrews' notes. But here I find you…instead of with her! I had to pull Hamley away from her partner to help Nurse Andrews, and I do not like having my schedule changed or interrupted," she growled, her eyes dark, narrow slits as she glared at Sybil. "Now…finish your work and return to Nurse Andrews at once!" she turned to leave, before pausing and then looking over her shoulder once more. "I expected more from you, Crawley." And with that, she left.

Sybil sat there with her mouth hanging open for…God only knows how long. With the little shreds of bruised pride she still had, she pulled herself to her feet, gathered her cleaning supplies with aching fingers, and left the bathing room to go and find her so-called partner, knowing that a gleeful reprimand would be waiting for her, possibly followed by some more of Jane's cruel teasing.

"There you are," Nurse Andrews muttered when Sybil finally found her. She didn't even bother to lift her eyes from the patient to whose leg she was bandaging. "Well, those tubs better be gleaming if it took you an entire afternoon to clean them," she grumbled. Sybil closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. "Thank goodness that Hamley girl was nearby to help…she will make a great nurse one day…unlike some people."

So many things sprang to Sybil's mind then. "Well then you can have her!" was one thing she wanted to shout. Another was to simply grab Nurse Andrews by the ends of her headscarf, and dunk her head in the patient's overflowing chamber pot. But before she could say or act on any of the things that were running through her mind, Nurse Andrews muttered, "That is all, Crawley," and with a wave of her hand, she dismissed her.

Sybil didn't hesitate. What point was there to linger and attempt to get into the woman's good graces? She had no graces to give! So she marched out of the hospital, ripping her own headscarf off in the process, not caring that her hair was flying loose and free behind her, and went directly to the dormitory, fuming and muttering things the entire way.

Susan was there when she arrived.

"Oh, I hate her!" Sybil growled, slamming the door behind her. "She's the worst…worst…oh, it's an insult to the profession to call her a nurse!" she threw her hands up in the air and began pacing the room, feeling too angry to sit still. "She was waiting for me, Susan, waiting for me—with a bucket and sponge in hand, telling me that I didn't do a good enough job in cleaning those tubs, that I needed to clean them again…and then she complains that I'm neglecting my duties to her when Nurse Templeton finds her all alone! Oh, she conveniently neglected to mention that I was scrubbing those tubs on her orders, but instead, Nurse Templeton finds me and reprimands me…and told me that of all people, she had Jane Hamley help Nurse Andrews! JANE HAMLEY! And can you believe that Nurse Andrews had the gall to accuse me of laziness? Oh yes, I'm the lazy one, cleaning chamber pots, bed sheets, and bathing tubs while she goes out and has a cigarette practically every hour—"

Sybil paused in her rant when she realized Susan was being unusually quiet. Susan was a sweet girl, but she wasn't one to hide her displeasure. And the two of them would often unburdened themselves with one another after a hard day at the hospital, each gasping and muttering while the other told her story.

But Susan hadn't responded to anything Sybil had said. She didn't gasp, she didn't mutter agreement or show signs of shock and outrage…she didn't even try to say anything to calm Sybil down. Instead, she was lying across her bed, holding a piece of paper…with trembling fingers.

"Susan?" Sybil whispered, slowly moving to her friend's side. Susan finally lifted her head, and Sybil's eyes widened at ashen color of her skin…and the red blotches under her eyes. "Oh God, Susan…what's wrong?"

Susan swallowed the lump in her throat, before holding the letter out to Sybil, her fingers trembling even harder. "It's…it's James…" she managed to whisper, before a soft sob escaped her throat.

Oh no. Sybil took the letter and felt her own heart plummet at Susan's revelation. James, who Sybil felt she knew so well based on everything Susan had told her; a man who had hoped to one day meet…and perhaps congratulate at his and Susan's wedding. The very man whom Susan was eagerly counting down the days to their Christmas holiday, so she could be reunited with him once more…

No, not James.

Sybil took a deep breath and began reading the letter, telling herself to be strong because that was what her friend needed right now. Her eyes scanned the opening lines, realizing that the letter was coming from James' mother. And as she read those lines, her heart racing rapidly…she began to realize…

"Oh…oh Susan, he's alive!"

Sybil turned to Susan, relief flooding her features. But her smile quickly vanished as Susan turned her head into her pillow and began crying anew. "R-r-read on…" she moaned between sobs.

Sybil was confused, but turned her attention back the letter and continued reading…and then finally realized why Susan was so upset.

…James was severely injured…nearly drowned from the explosion…a piece of metal struck him in the eye…had to remove his right eye…may suffer permanent blindness in his left, but only time will tell…

She finished reading the letter, the last lines revealing that for the time being, James was being held in a hospital in London, unsure exactly when he would be well enough to journey north to Liverpool.

"Oh Susan…" she sighed, putting the letter down and turning back to her roommate. Susan sniffled and lifted her head away from the pillow, her eyes and cheeks swollen from her tears. Sybil reached out and took one of Susan's hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He's alive."

Susan bit her lip to keep the sob from escaping. "But he's blind, Sybil! And it was his dream to build ships! How can he do that, blind? Who would hire a blind shipbuilder?"

Sybil nibbled her lip and looked back at the letter. "But…but his sight could return to his left eye…"

Susan shook her head, her expression one full of despair and hopelessness. "His mother says 'only time will tell'; it's more likely that he will be blind—"

"Which means there's still a chance that he won't be," Sybil said with determination. "Mrs. Patmore—the cook at my home; two years ago she began to suffer from blindness, but my father found a doctor in London, an eye specialist, who was able to help her…and now, she sees as good as before!"

Susan's expression began to change, and Sybil could see a glimmer of hope. "What…what are you saying?"

Sybil grinned. "I'm saying that I will write to my father, tell him about James, and see that this same doctor can find him in London, and help him with regaining his sight!"

Susan bolted upright, her eyes wide and her mouth open. "Do you…you really think that…that he will?"

"Yes!" Sybil grinned. "I'll explain it to him and make sure that he does!"

"Oh Sybil!" Joy flooded Susan's face, and with a happy squeal, she threw her arms around Sybil and hugged her tight, crying anew, but this time for a very different reason. "Oh Sybil, thank you! Thank you!"

Sybil grinned, hugging her friend back, truly feeling happy for the first time since she came to York. If the frustration and humiliation of the last few weeks under Jane Hamley and Nurse Andrews was the price she had to pay in helping Susan, then so be it. This alone, made the journey to York worth it.

"Oh Sybil, truly…thank you! I confess, I was having a terrible day, and then to come back and see this letter…"

Sybil couldn't help but laugh. "Oh Lord, Susan, I can understand completely. But I think this makes up for it."

Susan grinned and nodded her head. "Indeed. Oh, you were saying something about that horrid Nurse Andrews—tell me, what happened exactly?"

Sybil opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it, allowing a soft, thoughtful smile to spread across her face. "You know…it doesn't matter. Let's get go to the dining hall, and then retreat to our corner of the library; I'll begin writing Papa's letter there."

Susan giggled and nodded her head, but then paused as she rose from the bed. "Oh! I completely forgot! I'm sorry, Sybil, but this came for you," she went to her dressing table, where a single envelope lay.

Sybil smiled, holding her hand out for the letter. "It must be from Mama; I can't imagine Gwen receiving my reply so quickly."

A mischievous grin appeared on Susan's face. "Well…you're partially right; it is from Downton…but not from your mother…" she waved the letter in front of Sybil, her grin only growing more and more.

Sybil looked confused. "From Downton, but not from…" realization slowly began to dawn. No…it couldn't be…could it?

Susan giggled. "Now Sybil…just who is Mr. T. Branson?"

Sybil's knees practically buckled beneath her. "B-B-Branson?" she stuttered, a mixture of shock, anxiety, and relief washing over her face.

Susan nodded her head, turning the envelope over in her hands. "That's what the return address says. Now answer my question—"

She was cut off by Sybil snatching the letter from her fingers. "He replied…" she whispered, more to herself than to her roommate.

Susan was prepared to tease Sybil for her anxiousness to read the letter, but noticed the way Sybil's fingers trembled as she held the envelope, as if someone had given her a priceless treasure that would break if she weren't careful. She also noticed the rapid rise and fall of Sybil's chest, and the deep blush that was creeping up Sybil's neck, and flooding her face. "Sybil? Is…is everything alright?"

Sybil's head snapped up. "What? Oh! Yes, yes…everything's fine…"

Susan lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Well…aren't you going to open it?"

Sybil looked back down at the envelope, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. "I…" she paused, unsure what to say or do. She desperately wanted to read Branson's note, but she was also terrified to do so. What if it was filled with curses, telling her to "shove off" and leave him be? Could she blame him? Or worse…what if it was him telling her he was leaving? That when she returned to Downton at Christmas…he wouldn't be there?

"Alright Sybil, you're worrying me," Susan scolded. "Who is this T. Branson? Is it…I mean, is he someone bad?"

Once more, Sybil's head snapped up. "Oh no! No, no, he's not—"

"Ah ha, I knew it!" Susan grinned, flopping down on her bed and curling her feet in, like a child awaiting to hear a story. "Tell me all about him! Is he your beau? And if so, why haven't you said anything before!"

Sybil's face suddenly felt very hot. "He's…he's not my beau…"

Susan didn't seem convinced. "Well, if that's true, he certainly is something to you…" she began grinning again. "Let me guess; he's someone you've known since childhood, someone you've admired for many, many years, but as far as you're aware, has never taken notice of you before…at least not in the way you want to be noticed."

Sybil's blushing only increased. "No! It's nothing like that, I mean…I…I haven't known him all my life, only the last few years, and…while yes, I do admire him—NOT IN THAT WAY!" she cried as Susan threw back her head and laughed, while pointing an accusing finger at her friend.

"Oh defend yourself all you want, Sybil, but anyone can see that you most certainly do admire him…IN that way!"

Sybil's lips began to pout, and her face only grew hotter and redder. "I…I…you don't understand," she groaned in frustration. "I…I mean, he and I…we can't…" her voice trailed off, confusion and irritation over the whole matter raging in both her head, and her heart.

Susan's giggling began to slow at Sybil's words. "Can't?" she repeated. "What do you mean, you can't…" suddenly realization hit her. "Oh! You mean…it's forbidden?" she gasped, and Sybil groaned as a light of excitement lit Susan's eyes. "Oh, that is delicious!"

"Susan…"

"Let me see if I can guess!" she clapped with glee. "Alright, alright, um…he's the son of a nearby lord whom your father has had a falling out with over the last few years?"

Sybil just made a face.

"No, no, you're right, not juicy enough," Susan tapped her fingers on her cheek. "Oh! He's a business partner to your father! Handsome, intelligent, and ever-so-slightly mature for your age…"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Susan, please—"

"Oh I'm just warming up!" Susan giggled. "Alright, not a neighboring lord or a business partner, but…let me see, oh! I know, he works for your father—"

Sybil's gasp revealed too much. Susan's eyes widened and her grin only grew bigger.

"Ah ha! That's it! He works for your father! Of course, why didn't I realize? What is he, a banker? Your father's lawyer?" she looked at Sybil for any confirmation, but when she saw none, her brow only creased with confusion. "What else could there be? Unless he's the butler…" her voice trailed off, and she could see Sybil stiffen, ever so slightly. "Oh Lord…the butler?"

"Oh heavens no!" Sybil groaned, stomping her foot in frustration. "Carson is old enough to be my grandfather!"

"But I am right, though, aren't I? Not about the butler, I mean, but…he's a servant…isn't he?"

Sybil couldn't look Susan in the eye. It didn't matter, because Susan had put all the pieces together. "Oh Sybil…" she murmured. "How…how…" Sybil glanced up then. "How…ROMANTIC!"

Sybil stared at Susan with disbelief. "Romantic?"

"YES!" Susan gasped, grinning broadly. "Oh, it's just like Romeo and Juliet!"

Sybil didn't like the sound of that. She knew how that play ended.

"Oh, please, tell me all about him? Is he handsome? I'm sure he is. How old is he? Is he a footman? A gardener? Or um…what do they call them…a man's personal servant..."

"Valet?"

"YES! Is he a valet? OH! Is he your father's valet?" she gasped, shocked by the whole revelation, but eager to learn more.

Sybil sighed and shook her head. "No, he's none of those…" did she dare reveal everything to Susan? Not simply who Branson was, but…but everything, including the last interaction she had with him right outside her dormitory? "He's simply…my friend."

Now it was Susan who made a face. "Oh come now, Sybil—"

"Branson is my friend, and that's all there is to it," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry if that disappoints you, Susan, but that is the fact."

Susan rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fine, I'll concede defeat…for now." She rose and crossed the room to the door. "I'll leave you in peace to read your letter from your Mr. T. Branson who clearly means more to you than you're willing to admit." Sybil opened her mouth to protest, but Susan only poked her tongue out, and then laughed as she shut the door, leaving Sybil once more to ponder the confusion of her heart.

She looked down at the envelope once more, its weight feeling unbearable. "Oh sod it," she swore, before tearing into it and pulling the letter out. She wasn't going to let Susan's words get the better of her. She had been longing to hear from Branson for weeks, and had more or less accepted that he wasn't going to reply. She should be feeling elated, just as she had felt when she was able to offer Susan some hope.

She sat on the edge of her bed, and began to read Branson's words, a small smile spreading across her face, as she imagined his beautiful, Irish brogue, reading them to her.

Her heart raced with each word. A laugh escaped her throat, while every so often a blush would darken her cheeks. She bit her lip at certain words, and felt her mouth go dry at others. She continued reading and reading…her brow furrowing as she drew closer and closer to the end…and then her fingers were gripping the letter, threatening to tear the paper as she reached that single word, just before his name.

Goodbye.

What on earth did he mean by that? He had never ended a letter to her with "goodbye" before! What was he trying to say? Was…oh God…was this his way of…of telling her he was leaving Downton?

Sybil bolted up from the bed, and then quickly moved to her desk, grabbing a piece of paper and her pen, and immediately began writing. She didn't care if she missed supper for a second night in a row, or if her absence sparked more questions from Susan; she had to find out if her worst fears were coming true.

"Please Tom…I know I'm a selfish creature for asking, but please…don't leave, not like this…" she prayed as she began to write.


Eeep! What did she write? Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you can!