Church and Family

Sybil smiled as she finished dressing herself, examining the cotton outfit. The neck, shoulders, and chest area were made of a deep blue while the rest of the dress blended into a forest green. It was one of the dresses she'd bought yesterday, and Tom had told her it would make perfect "Sunday best."

For some reason, she couldn't smell the aroma of oatmeal in the kitchen. Had she truly woken up early enough to learn how to make the standard breakfast dish? Her heart pounded as she marched up to Mrs. Branson and said, "Good morning! Would you accept my help with breakfast?"

Mrs. Branson's eyes widened in shock and obvious disgust. "Here, we don't eat breakfast before we attend Mass. Proper fasting is necessary before we receive Communion. There will be no food eaten in this flat on Sunday, even for those who will not receive." She looked at Sybil deliberately with that last sentence, making it clear who exactly "would not receive."

"I see," Sybil said, trying to keep her voice cheerful despite feeling hurt and confused. She thought she'd been ready for life in Ireland. But it was only her second day here, and it was becoming more and more clear there was so much about this country she didn't expect. But she had to prove herself to them. This was the life meant for her. She could feel it deep in her heart.

Soon Tom greeted her with a warm kiss on her cheek, and Sybil's heart filled with even more certainty that this was the place for her. Especially considering he looked so handsome in that soft brown suit. "Hi, Tom," she said, stopping to admire his form and giving him a kiss in return.

Mrs. Branson's face transformed into a bright smile that covered her entire face as she saw her son. "Good morning, Tommy! I want to thank you again for reading the Bible out loud last night. You understand those big words and can see that tiny print so much better than I do. It's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of hearing an entire chapter. And Exodus was particularly fitting," she said with a nod.

Sybil nodded in agreement. She didn't usually choose to read or listen to the Bible, but she adored hearing Tom's voice reading anything. It was so... deep, and comforting, and his Irish brogue was quite sexy.

"Well," Mrs. Branson said after pausing for a moment to study her son and his fiancée. "Are we all ready to go to St. Paul's?"

Sybil nodded, determined to be ready no matter what. Tom met her eyes and then said, "I suppose we are, Mam."

They all exited the flat.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"I was rather surprised there was no oatmeal cooking in the kitchen this morning," Sybil said as they walked to the church with empty stomachs. "You might have warned me that there would be no breakfast on Sunday morning." She shook her head. There was a lot she needed to learn, but she'd expected Tom to explain all the nuances of Irish culture.

Sighing, Tom looked down for a moment before returning his eyes to hers. "Perhaps I should have, but there is already a lot for me to remember, especially considering I'm still trying to find a job. You'll adjust soon enough; you've already done better than Mam and Uncle Conner expected."

"Is it true I won't receive Communion at St. Paul's? she said a few moments later. "I can't understand the difference between actual rules, and what your mother says just to try to push me away."

"Yes, I'm afraid that's true," Tom said. "Communion is only available to Catholics."

Disappointment filled her as she realized she would be truly excluded from such an important ritual. Nevertheless, she was still looking forward to attending. "Still, it will be nice to meet more of your relatives. Even more importantly, we can discuss our wedding with the priest."

Tom's face was a combination of a glow and an arrogant smirk in response to that. "Oh, Sybil, I'll never tire of hearing you say that. 'Our wedding.'"

"Our wedding," she whispered again, giggling as a church appeared in the distance.

OOOOOOOOOO

There was a chorus of "Tom!" … "Welcome home!" … I heard you were coming back" … and "What took you so long?" as Sybil, Tom, and Mrs. Branson entered St. Paul's and approached a particular cluster of people within the sea of worshipers in the pews. Sybil recognized Uncle Conner among them. Several of them gave Tom a light slap on the back.

One young woman held a baby who looked as if he might be almost a year old. "I'm glad to see you've finally returned, but I'm a bit disappointed you didn't come home for my wedding. Or for Jimmy's christening," she shook her head and patted her son's back.

Sybil's heart went out her Tom, as she knew how frustrated he'd been that he couldn't go to his younger sister's wedding in 1916. But with the middle of the war, Papa needed all the help he could get. Furthermore, the Irish sea was considered unsafe, because of the German U – boats. Obviously, Tom's sister, Sheena, was still didn't understand that. She squeezed his hand, hoping to comfort him a bit, and he squeezed hers in response.

"Sheena, I did try but with the English war… I'm sorry. I really am," Tom said. "I do hope you'll come to our wedding, anyway." He broke into a full grin and held up their joined hands. "This is my fiancée, Sybil."

Sheena studied Sybil for several moments without saying anything. The woman's hazel eyes reminded her of Tom's as did her brown hair. The rest of Tom's family also suddenly grew silent. "I still can't believe my baby sister is married with a baby," Tom said, breaking the silence. He stared at the short, stout man standing next to Sheena, apparently realizing this must be her husband.

Sheena chuckled softly as her son began to fuss. "Tom, I'm certainly not a baby anymore. I'm twenty – four years old." Sybil couldn't help giggling herself at that. His "baby sister" was a year older than Sybil! Sheena pointed to the man standing next to her. "This is my husband, Nolan, and we've been married for three years."

Tom sighed and nodded. "But I'll come to … Jimmy's first birthday, if you'll have me," he said, leaning in to get a closer look at the baby. He had a large head, although there was only a bit of reddish hair on the top, and big legs. He looked rather adorable in those tiny pair of trousers. "Is he named for…uh…"

"Da? Yes, of course. And also our little brother that died," Sheena said softly as she tried to comfort her son with little pats.

Sybil's heart clenched as she realized all that this family had lost.

At the same time, it looked more and more like Tom had deliberately avoided speaking about his father, and possibly his younger brother, to her. She didn't want to become cross at Tom, especially as he was really her only ally here. But it was frustrating to realize that he'd kept something so big from her, especially as he complained that the English refused to speak about important, emotional things.

The church bells began to ring, signaling the beginning of the Mass, and Sybil pushed such thoughts out of her head as everyone sat down. Tom led her to an empty spot on the pew. Unfortunately, the young woman whom Sybil sat next to gave her quite a push. She appeared to be about fifteen; still the girl's shove could have been from a large man. "Don't come near me, English filth," she whispered in disgust. "My brother is dead because of you."

Sighing Sybil moved to the other side of Tom. "Was her brother… the cousin you told me about?" she whispered as the church bells rang one more time.

"Eoin. Yes, the one who was killed in the uprising because 'he was probably a rebel.," Tom whispered back, the irritation of that incident still in his voice. She wished she could explain to everyone that she didn't agree with what her countrymen did that day, and that she supported Irish independence.

But they wouldn't listen, and now wasn't the time. Still, she knew she would prove herself eventually.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The organ music hummed all over the entire building, which was about three times the size of the Downton Village Church. A couple of nuns chanted in a language Sybil didn't understand. Naturally, the Mass was in Latin.

Still, St. Paul's Catholic Church didn't feel as foreign to Sybil as she had been told it would. The music was beautiful to fill anyone's soul. And even though it was in a different language, they celebrated Communion here, just as they did at home. Even if she could not receive.

After the recessional music stopped and the Mass finally ended, Tom's hazel eyes met hers and grinned. Sybil knew exactly what he was thinking. "It's time to discuss our wedding, isn't it?"

Tom's grin widened and he nodded. "Absolutely," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the back of the church, where the priest was. It was a smaller section, with no pews. Instead, there was a desk and wooden chair.

"Father Hayes" Tom said cheerfully as they came close to him. He looked between Mathew's age and Papa's, with a full head of red hair and was still wearing his green robe. "This is my fiancée, Sybil."

Father Hayes nodded and held out his hand. "A pleasure."

"Nice to meet you, as well," Sybil smiled as she shook the man's hand. As soon as she spoke, his entire demeaner changed. His mouth formed a thin line and his hand seemed to chill.

"We wish to talk to you about performing our wedding," Tom said, completely ignoring the man's coldness with his bright smile.

Sighing, Father Hayes looked from Sybil to Tom and back to Sybil again. "I see. But I assume you aren't Catholic."

Sybil had never been ashamed of being Anglican. And there was no reason why she should be now. Nevertheless, the way the priest said "aren't Catholic" made her extremely uncomfortable. "No, I'm not," she said, forcing her head high.

"Then you should know I cannot perform such a wedding," Father Hayes said, staring at Tom as if the answer were obvious.

Tom shook his head, his eyes staring back into the priest's, almost pushing. "I know some Catholic and Church of Ireland marriages have been performed before. This is no different."

"A lot of those included a conversion first. But besides that, this union is completely different." The priest shook his head. "You come from very different worlds, and you will not be able to unite."

Sybil's temper snapped. She was so tired of being judged for the mistakes of her countrymen that she had nothing with to do. "I am joining this world, and we will 'unite," she said, her voice growing a bit louder than it should.

But Father Hayes still shook his head firmly. "I suggest you see yourselves out." Suddenly it was quieter than ever as they walked out of the church.

OOOOOOOOOOO

For several moments, Sybil and Tom walked back to Mrs. Branson's flat silently. They both had been so certain they could begin planning their wedding today. Sybil remembered the expression on her Tom's face when she'd said "our wedding." It had made her so happy; now it broke her heart.

"I still can't believe it," Tom said suddenly, his voice sounding loud on the Dublin street. "I know there have been interfaith marriages performed before. But just because your English, he won't listen to us."

"Somehow, I thought convincing Papa was our biggest hurdle," Sybil said. "I suppose I was being naïve." She felt simultaneously sad and cross at the same time. Sad that they wouldn't be planning their wedding and cross with herself expecting it to be so easy.

"No, Sybil, you were optimistic, and that's something I love about you," Tom said, stopping to face her. "And I told you it would take three weeks to be married once we arrived." His hazel eyes glowed with sincerity.

Sybil nodded, feeling her heart lifted and her optimism return. She stepped closer. "You're right; and we will find a way to marry. You and I know our relationship is right Tom, and we we'll convince everyone else eventually."

Tom broke into a grin. "I agree," he said and kissed her. She felt herself blush a little; Sybil still wasn't used to kissing in public. But she felt warm all over when he did it. "I suppose we should return to Mam's. I think she said she'd make eggs to go with our oatmeal this morning."

Nodding, Sybil walked a bit faster. She'd completely forgotten she hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

OOOOOOOOO

Sybil and Tom spent the rest of the day trying not to feel frustrated about their lack of wedding plans, but a cloud of disappointment hung over them. There had to be a way for them to marry.

That evening, as they ate their leftover stew from yesterday, Tom's eyes suddenly lit up and he broke into a grin. "I think I know a way, Sybil!"

Sybil's heart leaped. "A way for us to marry?"

Mrs. Branson put her spoon down and sighed. "I had hoped when Father Hayes said 'no' this morning that perhaps you'd start to see sense, Tommy."

"Mam, I have 'seen sense' because that is marrying Sybil," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "She isn't going to ruin my life; she's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I know you'll see that someday, too."

Sighing again, Mrs. Branson scooped a bite of stew.

"So, you thought of a way for us to marry?" Sybil repeated, returning the conversation to the most important part.

Tom nodded, his grin spreading across his face again. "My sister, Brigid, lives in Cork county, and in her letters, she's always praising the priest, Father Conrad. She says he's this sweet older man who loves everyone he sees. I think we could visit my sister and speak to him."

Sybil heart leaped even higher this time. "It's certainly worth a try. Do you think Brigid would allow us to stay with her?"

"I hear she's rather busy with the farm," Mrs. Branson said carefully.

"Yes, but she also rarely sees the family, Mam, and she hasn't seen me in almost ten years. It would be nice to visit, anyway," Tom said, his smile turning a bit smug.

"True," Mrs. Branson said finally. "I wish I could go, too, but there would be no one to tend the laundry." The older woman did laundry for many professionals in Dublin. Every day but Sunday from after breakfast until just before dinner was cooked, Mrs. Branson's kitchen was full of buckets of water and soapy clothing, which she hung out to dry just outside. It was how she paid her rent. "You tell Brigid I love her, and I'm looking forward to her next letter."

Sybil finished the rest of her warm stew with a bright smile.

OOOOOOOOOOO

While applying to more newspapers the next day, Tom wired Brigid. A couple of days later, he still waited to hear from the papers, but he still had a bright smile on his face. "Brigid says we can come," Tom said, with his eyes dancing as he looked at Sybil.

Sybil sighed but smiled. "That's certainly good news, especially as a I just got rejected by another hospital." Then she paused. "How do you plan on paying for the train tickets, especially as we are still both without jobs?"

Tom's hazel eyes looked deep into hers. "I've thought a lot about that, and I think we'll have to use the money your father gave us."

Sybil's heart stopped for a moment as she stared back at him. Tom had made it perfectly clear after they'd left Downton that he didn't wish to touch Papa's money, insisting that he was perfectly capable of earning enough for both of them. After all, he'd already saved enough money from his chauffeur's salary to pay for train tickets to Liverpool and boat tickets to Dublin for he and Sybil.

"Truly?" she asked, staring into his eyes, still in shock.

"Truly," Tom said with a sigh and a nod. "If this is the only way for us to marry then, so be it."

For the first time in their relationship, Sybil kissed him in the public street. It was so wonderful that he was willing to put aside his pride for their love.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The Irish countryside rushed past them, and it struck Sybil how different it was than Dublin. Dublin was a city clamoring with people, flats, and motors, and bicycles. The countryside was full of lush greenery, hills, farms, and pastureland. Ironically, it reminded her a little of the difference between London and the Yorkshire countryside.

That caused her to think of Papa again, and Sybil silently thanked him for giving them the money so they could see Tom's older sister, and hopefully finally plan their wedding. At the same time, she remembered Tom's father, and his apparent need to avoid speaking about him.

She studied Tom for a moment, thinking of how natural he appeared, in his light green suit, simple hairstyle and warm smile. She'd never believe he was keeping something from her; he was so real, and he'd always been completely honest about his feelings.

But he had. And he was.

Sybil sighed, once again trying to remind herself not to unleash her temper on her only ally in Ireland. Certainly not the man who'd just put their marriage above his pride when they'd bought the train tickets to Cork.

Still, when Tom smiled at her, looking so genuine, she snapped. "Tom, why have you never spoke of your father to me?"

Tom's eyes widened in shock and he said, "What? Sybil, I don't think this is really the time."

Ordinarily, she'd agree not to have an argument in a public place, certainly not on a train. Her governesses, Granny, and even Mama would be appalled at her behavior. But right now, she didn't care; she was tired of his hypocrisy. They were in Ireland now, right? So why not show some emotion?

"So, when will it be 'the right time'?" she said shaking her head. "You've spoken to me about the Easter Rising and its aftermath. You've spoken about not attending Sheena's wedding and about her new baby. You've spoken about Brigid running the farm on her own because her husband died, and her children are still young. I've even heard about your brother Kieran, and how he loves cars as much as you do. But nothing about your father at all."

Tom's voice grew louder as he said, "Has it occurred to you that it's difficult? That losing my father when I was only twelve years old was the worst thing that happened to me, especially considering my younger brother had only died a few years before?"

"Why is that you talk about English avoiding emotion when you obviously doing the same thing about your father?" Her hands flew in the air, just as they often did when she was arguing with Papa.

"Sybil it's not the same thing!" Tom said, turning away from her.

"How?" Sybil asked twisting herself to look at him again. "How is it different?"

Tom sighed. "Because my father is the only subject I avoid speaking, and I don't do it deliberately. But I suppose, considering we're already discussing him now… His name was James Branson, although as I'm certain you realize, people called him Jim or Jimmy. He was a hard working man who did everything to provide for his family and left the religious aspect to Mam." … He paused and turned his head back around to look into her eyes. "He used to work at the docks with Uncle Conner, and one day something fell on his leg, which became gangrened…"

Sybil's heart went out to the now dead Mr. Branson, as she knew how painful gangrene could be. She'd seen many patients whimper in pain from that infection, much worse than the broken bones. And the stench… She could still smell it right now. She took both Tom's hands into hers and kissed them.

"My younger brother had just died about four years earlier, of cholera. We called him Jimmy, too, and he was only eighteen months old," His eyes appeared suspiciously wet, and Sybil kissed each of them, her heart breaking as she tasted the tears.

"I hope Sheena's son Jimmy lives a long life," she said softly, thinking of the little boy they'd met a couple of days earlier. At the same time, she couldn't help but notice all the aliments these people suffered. They really needed nurses, and surely, she would eventually find a job to help them.

"Me too," Tom said, finally smiling.

"And I'm sorry for thinking you may have deliberately kept such painful information from me," Sybil said softly. Her face was still close enough to touch. "I should know you better than that, and I trust you."

"You should have," Tom said with a nod. "But if you're going to be part of my family, you should know what happened to Da. And my younger brother. I'm glad I told you." He moved a couple of inches closer to connect his lips with her cheek. The brief touch caused an explosion in her heart, and Sybil reminded herself they were still on a public train. In fact, a few other passengers looked rather interested.

"I like to think the young Jimmy is named after Jim Connolly, too," Tom said as they drew back. His voice sounded thoughtful and causal, a sharp contrast to the recent heat between them.

That name sounded familiar to her for some reason. "Was he… one of the men who participated in the Easter Rising?"

Tom nodded, appearing rather proud that she remembered that. "Yes. He was another socialist and a defended of the working man, so I think Da would have admired him to, if he'd been alive when Connolly was in Ireland." Then he shook his head. "He was executed from a chair, because he was too injured to stand after leading his part in the Rising." His tone turned bitter, as it often did when he discussed the mistreatment of the Irish by the English. There was a time where that stung, but Sybil knew now that he wasn't aiming it at her.

Someday, it would be the same for the rest of his family. For now, she looked forward to meeting Brigid.

OOOOOOOOOO

As the train pulled into the station at Cork, Sybil watched for signs of Brigid along with Tom, but it was difficult considering how crowded it was. Given the rural countryside, she had expected Cork to be a village similar in size to Downton. But it appeared Cork was a city like York or Dublin.

Other people rushed through the crowds, eager to find their friends, families, or businesses. Shouts of delight could be heard all around her, but there was still no sign of Tom's sister. "Do you see her anywhere?" she said to him as they climbed off the train.

She clutched her case with one hand and Tom's with the other hand.

Tom shook his head, his eyes moving everywhere through the crowd. "But I know she'll be here." Finally, on the far side of the station, he smiled. "There she is!" He pulled Sybil toward a woman with brownish red hair and a face like a younger version of Mrs. Branson.

"Hi, Brigid," Tom said, giving his older sister a big, friendly hug. "It's been a long time." Then he turned his face back to Sybil. "This is my fiancée, Sybil."

As was typical for Tom's family, his older sister studied Sybil for a few moments. But unlike Mrs. Branson and Uncle Conner, Brigid didn't stare at her as if she had no business being in Ireland or with Tom. Instead, her expression seemed to change from confusion to indifference constantly.

But Sybil's heart leaped at that. Perhaps this woman would be easier to win her acceptance.

"We'd best get back to the farm as soon as possible," Brigid said as her expression switched back to indifference again. "I left the sheep with my neighbor, and who knows what trouble he'll get them into." With that, she began walking with a determined purpose, back to her farm.

Sybil and Tom tried to match speed with her.

"What about Sean and…" Tom seemed to struggle to remember the name of Brigid's second child.

"Caitlin," Brigid said firmly. "They are both in primary school now. Good thing, or I would have never agreed to pick you two up." She shook her head in exasperation, and Sybil wondered what it would be like to manage a sheep farm and two children. It would certainly keep her busy.

"I can't believe they are already that old," Tom said, shaking his head. "I keep thinking of them as the babies they were when I left Ireland." He glanced around the city of Cork. "I'm so glad to be back. For the family and for Irish independence."

"There's a lot of support in Cork for independence, too," Brigid said. "Some say there's more support here than in Dublin! But I'm afraid I don't have time to think about it one way or another. Every moment of my day is spent trying to keep the farm and the sheep alive and my children out of trouble. It's so hard without Brian." Her voice changed from neutral to sad as she spoke what was obviously her husband's name.

Tom nodded. "I'm sorry about that. He died in the Battle of Gallipoli, right?" Sybil couldn't help staring at him as she heard that news. He always acted as if the Great War had nothing to do with Ireland or the Irish. And yet his brother – in – law died in a battle where a couple of her dancing partners from her first Season also died.

Brigid sighed and nodded.

"But don't you see that's all the more reason to support Irish independence?" Tom said his voice growing in passion as it always did when he spoke about this and Sybil's heartbeat faster as she watched him. "Your husband died for… what? An English war that doesn't concern us?"

Brigid sighed again. "Sometimes I think like that. But the reality is that Brian and I both agreed we needed the money from the English military. The family all thought after we were allowed to buy the farm in 1903 that things would improve. Granddad was so happy when Brian and I decided to take over his old farm. But then the sheep became sick and…there seemed no way out. And even now, his pension from the English government helps me hold on to the farm and the kids."

Huffing, Brigid shook her head. "This is one of the reasons why I don't like to think about this, Tommy. I don't know who to be angry at. Myself? Brian? The English? It takes too much energy, and as I said, I need everything to keep the farm running and care for my children." She suddenly seemed so much older and worn than she did a few moments ago.

Tom nodded. "All right. By the way, Mam sends her love and says she wishes she could see more of you."

"I do, too, but I can't just leave the sheep without care. As it is, I'm worried about them with my foolish neighbor in charge of them for a couple of hours. Sometimes I wish Mam would move out here with us. The air is better in the country for a woman her age." Brigid chuckled. "But you know how stubborn Mam can be. She refuses to give up her flat; not as long as she can still pay the rent herself. And with Shenna, Kieran, and now you living there, I'll never convince her to leave."

Sybil hopped they would reach Brigid's farm soon. She'd become used to walking over the past week, but this was much longer and the country terrain was harder. Her feet began to ach again. But in the meantime, she did enjoy listening to Tom's sister.

OOOOOOOOOO

Brigid sighed with relief as she finally saw her farm and all her sheep. "Thank goodness," she said. A white sheep dog barked in greeting. "Hi, Shep," she said, giving the dog a pat as she approached the pen. "I'm certain you are the reason the sheep are all right, rather than that Mr. Mooney promising to keep an eye on these critters."

Shep barked and licked Brigid's face. "I'd best clean the pen," she said with a nod. "In another month, they'll be able to graze in the pasture, but for now, the lambs are a bit too young."

Tom immediately patted Shep as his sister entered the pen. "Hi there," he said with a grin as the dog sniffed him in several different places. Then he patted his head again.

Smiling from a distance, Sybil wondered why she never knew Tom was a dog person. Perhaps he had more in common with Papa than he realized.

Meanwhile, Brigid cleaned the sheep dung, and examined each animal for disease. She obviously knew exactly what she was doing. If Ireland produced women like Countess Markiewicz and Brigid, then it was definitely the place for Sybil.

"There is bread in the house for lunch if you want before you speak to Father Conrad," Brigid said over her shoulder while she examined one of her sheep's foot closely.

OOOOOOOOO

Fortunately, Father Conrad's church wasn't back in the city of Cork, but in the center of the tiny village, next to the primary school. Sybil's legs were grateful.

"Hello, Father Conrad," Tom said as they stepped into the small church office, which was located on the side of the church.

A grey – haired man, who was sitting at a desk turned around, smiling kindly. "Hello. What can I do for you?" He wore a smile black outfit with a white collar.

"I'm Tom Branson," he said," holding his hand out to shake the priest's. "And this is my fiancée, Sybil," he said, then placing his arm around her gently.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sybil said, wondering if this man's kind demeanor would change as soon as she spoke with an English accent, the way the last one had. Especially as the Cork area was so in favor of Irish independence. Brigid had said this priest was "full of love," but Sybil knew that didn't always mean acceptance. Papa loved her, and he had barely accepted their marriage plans. Mrs. Branson obviously adored her son, but she did not accept Sybil.

But to her delight the man simply nodded with same expression. "A pleasure as well."

"Brigid Flannery is my sister, and she said you might be able to help us. We've had some trouble planning our wedding, considering Sybil isn't Catholic," Tom said, carefully dropping the firebomb.

"Ah," Father Conrad nodded. "I can see why that would be a problem, but there are ways around it. You aren't planning on converting, I take it?"

She should have been expecting that question, especially how Father Hayes had reacted. But the reality is, Sybil had never even thought about it. Being Anglican was never something she'd chosen; it was just what she was. "I… don't know…" she said, hoping she didn't sound as shocked as she felt.

"Well, you can still marry; it just cannot be in the church sanctuary. It would be in this room." Sybil glanced around the room. Besides the desk, there were several pictures of Christ and the Virgin Mary. It looked large enough for several guests, but certainly not the amount she'd always thought would come to her wedding.

But she'd be able to marry Tom. That was the important thing.

"And you'd have to promise to baptize your children Catholic," the priest continued softly. "Would you do that?"

"Of course," Tom said before Sybil could reply at all. She wasn't certain how she felt about that. "So, we could marry here in three weeks?" he said, his voice growing in excitement. She loved how eager he was to wed her, and her heart began to pound in excitement, too.

Father Conrad sighed. "Oh, no. I wouldn't perform the ceremony for at least three months."

Sybil's heart dropped at that. They'd already waited so long…

Sighing, Tom said, "Why? Brigid's wedding only took three weeks for the bans to be read. Everywhere we look, people tell us 'no' just because Sybil is obviously English. She is planning on living here and becoming Irish. She loves me and I love her. Doesn't that count for anything?" He sounded passionate again, and Sybil hung to his every word, especially considering he was speaking about them.

Father Conrad smiled again, in a way that made Sybil feel warm, despite the situation. "Of course, it does, son. It means a lot. But your Sybil is making a huge lifestyle change by marrying you, and I need to know she's certain before I will perform the ceremony."

"I am certain," Sybil said firmly, looking directly into Tom's eyes and then at the priest. "I've never been more certain of anything."

"As pleased as I am to hear that now, I wish you to think about it more thoroughly after you've lived in Ireland for a while," Father Conrad said. "But I will welcome you back if you still wish to marry in three months."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Tom grumbled about the priest's placating additude for the rest of the day. "We've already waited forever, and he acts like this is a childish decision." He patted Shep again, and the dog licked his face.

"I know," Sybil said, cutting the carrots for the stew she'd insisted on making for everyone tonight. Brigid worked so hard, and Sybil desperately wished to do something for her. She just hoped she remembered Mrs. Branson's instructions. "But Father Conrad's answer is still better than Father Hayes, who gave us a flat – out no."

"I'm glad you're still optimistic," Tom said, smiling slightly.

"Tom!" Brigid's voice shouted from outside. "I need that dog back out here. The sheep are driving me up the wall!"

OOOOOOOOOOOO

After dinner, Brigid mended her son's trousers while Sybil scrubbed all the dishes.

Meanwhile, Tom enjoyed time with his niece and nephew in the sitting room, telling them funny stories of Downton and listening to their exploits at the school. Sybil listened fondly, picturing him with their own children someday.

"I'm sorry the stew turned out a bit charred," Sybil said to Brigid, shaking her head as she finished the dishes. Sybil been so certain she'd followed Mrs. Branson's recipe for the stew, but it had been a bit overcooked. Sean and Caitlin certainly made that clear.

Brigid shrugged, looking completely worn out from the day. "Don't worry about it; it was still edible. And I'm sorry things didn't go as well with Father Conrad as you and Tom had hoped. Although," she sighed a couple of times as if she were uncertain about what to say next. Sybil was just beginning to wonder if she may have been transformed back to England, with everyone's tendency to avoid difficult subjects.

When Brigid said, "I think he might be right. I think you are rushing things a bit too much, Sybil."

Sybil felt her temper flare at that comment. She'd been so certain the woman was another ally. "We're not. Tom waited for two years for me to agree to marry him, and during that time, we shared all of our hopes, frustrations, and secrets as close friends. After I accepted him, we planned exactly how much money it would cost for us to move to Ireland, and what we would do when we arrived."

Her hands flew in the air. She was so tired of people thinking her and Tom's decision was impulsive and childish, just because they were an unusual couple. "But we'll convince everyone soon enough. Even Papa gave us his blessing before he left."

Brigid nodded as she continued the mending, almost without looking. "I appreciate all the planning you've already done, but you still need to be careful, Sybil. Brain and I discussed his decision to join the British military for months before he did so. We thought we'd planned for everything, too. But now…" she shook her head. "Was keeping the farm really worth Brain's life? I'm desperate to keep it, even more now, because it has to be, but sometimes I really wish we'd simply moved to the city. Then he'd still be with us."

"It's easy to think you know what you want now. But decisions like this can't be changed when you realize it isn't what you expect," Her hazel eyes, so like Tom's, stared into Sybil's, pleading for her to understand.

"The only thing I really wish is that I could marry Tom soon," Sybil said firmly, hoping to convey how certain she was of her love.

The sound of Tom's and Sean's laughter could be heard from the next room, breaking the tense moment and making them both smile.

Brigid sighed after a few moments. "I hope I'm wrong with my concerns, Sybil. I do. Not the least because you'd break my brother's heart if you did change your mind. But you need to think."

Sybil sighed wishing this woman would trust their relationship. Especially as Brigid was a sister Sybil could truly admire. As a child, she'd regarded her sisters, Mary and Edith highly. She still remembered how eager she had been to pin her hair up, wear perfume, and be presented just like her older sisters had been. But in the last couple of years Mary and Edith had shown to have such different priorities than Sybil did. As much as she loved them, Sybil didn't admire them that much anymore.