Notes:

Cúpla Fócail as Gaeilge (a few words in Irish) for everyone who's not from Ireland.

Ceapann sé go raibh se fósta suas ach is pheata é a mháthair fós (he thinks he's all grown up but he's still his mother's pet)

Codladh àilleacht (beauty sleep)

And some Irish slang...

Annoy the bejaysus out of someone (annoy the hell out of someone)

Chapter 1

...

The Parliament at Westminster

London

1885

...

Despite the fact that was very nearly summer, dark grey clouds were brewing overhead, threatening a downpour that would have rivalled the temperamental weather that was so common this time of year back in Ireland.

Two figures appeared at the top of the street, apparently deep in friendly banter as they held down the rims of their hats in the unnaturally stormy summer's breeze.

After a passing glance at the two formally dressed young men, one would have marked them no different from any other gentleman making his way home from work in the evening.

But upon a closer inspection of their accents and a sharper eye upon their second hand suits, it was clear that they were quite a bit different from the regular young English gentlemen seen around Westminster.

A pair of Irishmen, and bloody proud of it too.

The young politicians swiftly made their way down the street, away from the parliament buildings where they had spent their day in eager support of their party leader, Charles Stewart Parnell.

"Ahh Jaaysus Tom, What in God's name would you get out of going to a woman's rally?", Seamus Casey asked with a half amused and half exasperated eye roll in the direction of his friend, colleague and fellow member of the Irish Parliamentary Party.

He shook his head in disbelief, "...and on your day off too!"

Shrugging nonchalantly, a determined smile crept up on Tom Branson's face.

Neither of them could deny that women had a rightful place in politics, just as they did.

After all, both of them had relatives who were involved in The Ladies Land League during the last few years, and the women's endeavours had proved to be extremely effective in spreading support for both The IPP as a party and Home Rule as a step towards greater independence for the Irish people.

"Look Seamus, The Women's Movement may seem all very prim and upper middle class at the moment but that'll change once their ideas get more popular. There's no reason why women shouldn't be entitled to the same rights that Daniel O' Connell managed to get for the likes of me and you...a bunch of Catholic rebel rousers, the pair of us".

Tom's final comment was accompanied by a good natured smirk that only elicited an eye roll from his companion.

"Rebel rousers my arse, Branson", Seamus responded gruffly, just about containing a proud grin of his own as he feigned serious offence at the suggestion.

A pair of rebel rousers, a moniker fit for any man (or woman) willing to fight for the betterment of their homeland. (Not to mention how their reputation was probably one of the defining reasons that they had been elected to represent the North Dublin Constituency.)

Ten, even five years ago, it would have been completely unthinkable for a pair of middle class Irish fellas like them to get involved in politics, let alone get elected into parliament.

Parnell was the one who had made that all possible.

Each and every members of The IPP were now to be given a wage and lodgings for their time spent in London, something that suddenly made it possible for men of humbler backgrounds(as apposed to just the sons and nephews of wealthy landlords) to accept their seats in parliament.

Thankfully, the change had brought a lot of new blood, new representation and new ideas into the party, something that could only help Ireland's future prospects for greater independence.

"What would your poor Ma say? We're respectable pillars of the community now, you and me."

Tom chuckled, ducking out of step with his friend and into the side street that led to his flat. "Respectable, eh?", he retorted jokingly. "A mad bastard like yourself?"

"You're surely one to be talking, Branson".

Seamus continued on a few paces before noticing that Tom was no longer walking beside him.

"Are you not coming into Molly's for one?", he asked gesturing vaguely to the pub down near the end of the street, a pub that had been an all time favourite and regular haunt of the Irish emigrants living in the area ever since it's opening. "Murphy says he owes us a round"

There were few places in London that served a decent pint and held a regular celli, Molly Malone's was one of those rare and fine establishments.

It was almost like a little piece of home.

Tom shook his head, thinking of his parents and siblings back home in Ireland, his family who he hasn't written to or heard from in quite a few weeks. "Naah, Seamus not tonight. Tomorrow's an early start and I still have to write home. Ma'll have my head if I don't let her know what's been going on this side of the pond."

Seamus smirked at his friend's retreating figure. "Ceapann sé go raibh se fósta suas ach is pheata é a mháthair fós", he called after him, more than capable of imagining the wrath of the formidable Branson matriarch, but not as something that usually came down upon her youngest son.

Tom Branson was most certainly as much of a mammy's boy as there ever could be.

Smiling, Tom made to head towards his apartment once again. "Will you go away with that", he replied, casting his eyes to heaven as he turned away.

He was well aware that Seamus was simply trying to get a rise out of him, getting a good natured dig in whatever way he could-as was the Irish way, the better you can annoy the bejaysus out of someone, the better the friends you usually are.

"Enjoy the women's rally tomorrow. Make sure to get your codladh àilleacht beforehand", Seamus added, reasoning that if the first comment didn't get a reaction out of Tom, than the second would most certainly do the trick. "Who knows where you could run into the future Mrs Branson."

"Ahh would ya feck off", Tom replied, his Irish brogue thickening as he immediately made to shoot down any and all of Seamus's assumptions.

The idea of attending a women's rally simply to chat up members of the opposite sex was downright ridiculous! Tom did, after all, truly give a damn about women's rights-or the rights of anyone who deserved better, whether they be Irish, working class or women.

...That being said however, Tom could hardly deny that he wouldn't mind being in the company of a determined and politically minded lass should circumstances allow for it...

And some history for anyone interested...

Charles Stewart Parnell (27 June 1846 – 6 October 1891) was an Irish nationalist politician who served from 1875 as Member of Parliament (MP) in the House of Commons of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and whose party held the balance of power in the House of Commons during the Home Rule debates of 1885–1890.

The IPP (The Irish Parliamentary Party-a party, led most famously by Charles Stewart Parnell. The party was formed in 1874 by Isaac Butt, the leader of the Nationalist Party, replacing the Home Rule League, as official parliamentary party for Irish nationalist Members of Parliament (MPs) elected to the House of Commons at Westminster within the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland up until 1918. Its central objectives were legislative independence for Ireland and land reform. Its constitutional movement was instrumental in laying the groundwork for Irish self-government through three Irish Home Rule bills.

The Irish National Land League was founded by Michael Davitt in 1879. Its aims were a) "to bring about a reduction of rack rents" and b) "to facilitate the obtaining of the ownership of the soil by the occupiers".

By late 1880 Davitt felt sure that the leadership of the League would soon be imprisoned. He suggested that a Ladies' Land League be set up to carry on the work after their imprisonment. A few months previously a Ladies' Land League Committee had been set up by Fanny and Anna Parnell, Charles' sisters, to raise funds for the Irish National Land League.

Daniel O'Connell (Irish: Dónall Ó Conaill; 6 August 1775 – 15 May 1847), often referred to as The Liberator or The Emancipator, was an Irish political leader in the first half of the 19th century. He campaigned for Catholic emancipation—including the right for Catholics to sit in the Westminster Parliament, a right that had been denied for over 100 years. He also campaigned for the repeal of the Acts of Union (1801) which combined Great Britain and Ireland. He was a great supporter of Irish Nationalism and believed strongly in Irish independence.

Authors Notes;

Hiya everyone who decided to give this fic a go! Hope you're all good! Please let me know what you're thoughts are on this story so far and if an AU like this would be something you would be interested in. Its going to be mainly Sybil/Tom with some Mary/Matthew too thrown in for good measure. Anyways, I'd be thrilled if you took the time to leave a review and let me know what you thought, constructive criticism is always welcome.

Talk soon,

Pearlydewdrop xx

PS: Just in case anyone is wondering, the story title comes from the Dermot Kennedy song 'Outnumbered'. You should definitely give it a listen if you haven't already!