Winter Walk

December 1917

The snow fell in thick flakes from the cloud-covered sky. It wasn't a given in the first half of December. Even having a white Christmas was a gift that wasn't granted every year. But if it continued like this, a white Christmas wasn't that far off this year, Sybil thought.

Right now, she had a moment for herself in between the bustle of the work at the convalescent home and the hustle of making it to family dinner in time and an appropriate robe. Sybil was content with what life was for her at the moment. She felt she had a purpose. She was close to the people she loved and knew most of them safe. Of course, the days were also riddled with graveness and gloom. Everyone in the big house was faced with it now. It wasn't reduced to the ones who actively chose to do their part – Major Clarkson, Corporal Barrow, Sybil – anymore. And this even nearer presence brought the war much closer. In a way, it had invaded their home. But Sybil saw it as a chance, not only for the recovering soldiers but for her family as well. Seeing them taking part in doing useful work was something she had never thought would make her this happy.

And having her workplace at home at Downton brought other advantages with it.

Downton was simply a beautiful place and Sybil tried enjoying the environment whenever a short break presented itself. She hadn't had this at nursing school and even at the village, it wasn't the same as spending her days in the familiar walls of Downton. She didn't tell her parents how happy a part of her was to be home again that way. They wouldn't get her and would think she might regret her decisions or might want to stay here forever. But that wasn't the case. Things weren't as simplex.

Now, however, she was at Downton and enjoyed its best parts as good as her working schedule allowed. The opulent snow today left her no other choice but to hurry outside as soon as her relief came. She had grabbed her coat in passing and her fingers still fumbled with the buttons when Sybil already turned into the snow-covered path to the gardens. Her shoes were wholly unsuited for the thick white carpet that lay upon everything outside. Her heels quickly sank in it until they lightly touched the gravel. After four steps already, Sybil felt her fine stockings getting soaked. But she couldn't care less at the moment. She was relishing a split second of winter's peace. Soaked stockings wouldn't take that away from her.

The grounds looked wider than they already were and the white carpet swallowed every disturbing sound. Sybil loved that about winter. Nature's power installed a universal peace that could hardly be escaped. And Sybil gladly let herself be captured by winter's blessing. For the minute at least.

The constant falling of snow made the scenery look nearly untouched. Sybil's footprints were covered with fresh snow as soon as they emerged on the garden path. And the trails of prior wanderers could only be guessed at by Sybil.

Just as she was fully enveloped by the solitude out in the cold, she heard a second pair of feet trudging through the deepening snow behind her. She threw a glance over her shoulder and spotted Branson following her on the hardly distinguishable path. Sybil slowed her pace, and with her eyes glued to the ground in front of her, a smile crept up on her face without her knowing. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, clutching the makeshift closed coat to her nurse's uniform. The light wind swished around the hat of her uniform. Branson must have made her out immediately as she walked through the gardens as the only creature. He seemed to be pulled to her presence by nature. It was as if he had a sixth sense regarding her.

"Good day, milady!" his voice sounded from behind. Her smile grew into a teeth-exposing grin. She urged herself to moderate her expression before turning around.

"Hello, Branson," she greeted. He was catching up with her now and touched his hat as they made eye contact. And clasping his hands behind his back, Branson matched her steps. "Enjoying the white winter as well?" Sybil asked matter-of-factly.

"Well, everyone's happy to find a spare minute today to enjoy it," he answered. "And I have been especially lucky to get such nice company." He continued looking straight ahead as he said so.

Sybil tried overhearing the flirt lying in his words. "And I thought you were a person that might prefer some peaceful walk on their own," she gave back instead.

"I would, but I'm not opposed to the right company," he said without hesitation. Sybil didn't say a word and they continued walking in silence. She buried her bare hands in the pockets of her coat and tried relishing the sight of the white flakes dancing before her despite her nose starting to freeze bitingly and her feet turning into ice blocks.

Branson seemed to have sensed her reluctance and accepted her silence. They walked in unison and took in the winter landscape. The path took them a little closer to the big house for a moment, so that they passed the library, being able to watch the convalescents reside inside.

"I am glad that they're here," Sybil stated. She slowed her steps a little to follow the game of table tennis in there.

"Everyone's lucky to be at a place like this in these times. And it was the right decision to turn Downton into a convalescent home," Branson said. "Although it's not my place to have an opinion on that," he briskly added.

Sybil turned to him and finally came to a halt. "As long as you don't let granny or my father hear it," she teased and couldn't hold back a smirk. "I have nothing against opinionated people. We need more people that are, I think."

"I agree." Branson's look turned entirely serious. His hat and shoulders were covered with snow now, and his earnest expression didn't quite fit this dreamy appearance. Sybil knew where his thoughts were taking him. The countless injustices and wrongdoings of society managed to put a real dampener on his mood.

"These times don't leave much space to change things. We are doing what's in our power right now, and one day, things will be different again," Sybil said. "It won't be war forever." Her words managed to put a smile on Branson's face if only a soft one.

His eyes held her gaze. "You're wiser than every one of them," he murmured while nodding towards the big house.

"I don't know about that."

Sybil began shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her wet and icy feet were making her pretty uncomfortable with the time.

"But I do," Branson insisted.

"I think I will head back," Sybil announced. "Although it's very nice out here. But I don't want to give Mama any reason to pick on my 'habitual tardiness'. And I still have to change into my evening wardrobe."

Branson nodded as he turned around on the path with her. "The burdens of the aristocracy," he mocked.

"I know you don't sympathise with my life."

"Then you must have got me wrong," he said. "I only d-"

"I know, I know," she cut in. "I know where you're standing on this and I get it." She sent an encouraging smile his way before she began shivering rather apparently. She hugged herself and clutched her upper arms. As Branson noticed her chattering teeth, his brows knitted together on his forehead.

"We should really get you inside timely. Your nurse's uniform does look very charming but it's not most suited for a winter hike," he said. They quickened their tempo and Sybil smiled inwardly at his remark. When they neared the main entrance, she turned to him one last time.

"Thank you for the lovely walk," she said. She slipped into the house through the door that Carson opened for her proactively before Branson had a chance to react. She didn't quite know if she deliberately escaped his response; if subconsciously she thought it would be wiser to spare them both this moment. Or if she was just driven by the discomfort of her soaked feet.

Sybil climbed the stairs, unsure whether the walk had granted her the desired peace. Or if quite contrary, she was left more confused than before.