Chapter 9

...

Grantham House

London

Summer of 1886

...

"You look beautiful, darling", Cora Crawley praised tenderly, tucking a stray lock of Sybil's dark curls behind her ear. "My beauty and my baby", she said fondly. "All grown up."

Cora was very proud of the great success Sybil had proved herself to be in the past few weeks. She had always known her youngest would take to the London social scene like a duck to water. Among the family's peers in London, Sybil had conducted herself with the poise, elegance and good humour that Cora had always known her daughter to have, even when she had been just a little girl.

It was only Sybil's first season and Cora already knew that there was quite a few young men in London who seemed very interested in pursuing her and while Robert claimed that they should be in no rush with their youngest daughter considering how Mary and Edith were still unmarried, Violet was fervent in her belief that they should strike while the iron was hot.

Cora sighed, knowing all too well how her mother in law would be more than adamant to get her own way on the matter and would soon bring her son around to her way of thinking.

With this considered, The Countess of Grantham resolved to give her youngest daughter a heads up on the matter at hand. As a mother she felt that it was the least she could do.

Sybil smiled cheekily as she smoothed her fingers over the soft Indian silk of her pale blue gown.

"Well Mama, I won't be the baby for long now, will I?", she said with a bright smile, happily referring to the little sibling that The Crawley family would soon be welcoming into the world in a few months time. Smilingly, she glanced over her shoulder, away from the mirror to speak with her mother.

Cora laughed affectionately, brushing a hand over her stomach. She felt almost thankful that she would not have to discuss such matters with her unborn child for at least another eighteen years. "All four of you are my babies...", she said decidedly, smiling at both her grown daughter and her baby bump in turn. "...and you always will be."

The two women were quiet for some time, Sybil content to add the final touches to her outfit without the help of Gwen or Anna while her mother watched, seeming a little conflicted about the evening ahead.

Cora sighed deeply. She couldn't help but imagine what her daughter's reaction would be once she revealed to her the news that she had, in good conscience, decided that she must share with her.

After all, it had been apparent to nearly the whole family for quite some time that Larry Grey, the son of Lord Merton, had made it rather clear to both his own father and Robert that he intended to pursue Sybil's hand once she had made her debut in society.

"You know Lord Merton's eldest son will be at the ball tonight?"

Sybil schooled her features, recalling what Mary had said earlier about Larry's apparent interest in her.

She feigned ignorance, dabbing perfume on her wrists with a coolness that reminded her, rather startlingly, of her older sister. She fiddled thoughtfully with the end of the same golden necklace that her American grandmother had gifted her on her sixteen birthday, wondering how best to navigate the situation at hand.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't", she responded, trying to sound nonchalant at the idea of having attracted the unwanted attention of the last man in the world whom she would ever wish to garner the favour of. With a hidden smile, Sybil tried not to picture Larry Grey as the Mr Collins to her own Elizabeth Bennett. "Why do you ask?"

Cora hummed thoughtfully, responding to the question almost breezily. "No reason, darling. Only that he seems rather keen to spend time with you this evening."

"And what if I don't feel the same inclination to spend my evening with him?", Sybil replied, once again trying not to sound too impolite in light of the less than appealing proposal.

Frowning at the bluntness of her usually sweet and kind hearted daughter's unexpected reaction, Cora raised her eyebrows. "Oh Sybil, what's the matter? It isn't like you to say such a thing."

"But Mama", Sybil argued, feeling a little annoyed that her reluctance was being blamed on her own lapse of good character rather than Larry's incessant obnoxiousness. "Surely you would agree that Larry Grey is the most conceited and disagreeable man to ever enter a London ballroom? We'd be sure to drive one another totally mad!"

"Oh hush", Cora replied, the conversation going not nearly as well as she had hoped. While she had anticipated a certain reluctance on her romantic and idealistic daughter's part she had hoped that Sybil's common sense would prevail. "I'm not asking you to marry him, only to spend a few hours in his company with an open mind. Viscount Merton seems a handsome and intelligent man and he's got excellent prospects as his father's heir. Darling, I'm sure that you could do no better."

Sybil sighed distractedly but was determined not to back down.

Momentarily, she glanced away from her mother to the hiding place beneath her mattress where she had stowed away Tom's books.

Sybil couldn't help but wonder if Tom thought of her quite as often as she thought of him.

Her cheeks darkened at the idea. Although she had only known him a few weeks, his absence from her life felt like a chill wind in the chambers of her heart. She missed him, truly missed him...and it wasn't just their lively conversations and intellectual debates about women's suffrage and Ireland's independence, but him...Sybil missed Tom as a person.

She missed his companionship, his kindness, his determined conviction and how he seemed to understand her in a way that no one else ever had before. She missed his blue eyes and warm hands and how he made her heart pound and stomach come alive with butterflies.

(Goodness, a part of her even missed his pig-headed stubbornness, a match for only her own.)

"I don't think I will ever be able to do such a thing , Mama", Sybil said after a while, finally returning her attention to her mother. Her tone was much calmer this time but firmer than ever. "I'm sure that I could never be happy to marry for a position or out of duty...not when I could marry for love."

Cora sighed, her own frustration beginning to ebb at the honesty of her daughter's confession.

She approached Sybil, standing just behind her in the mirror until they were both watching the reflections of the other. She thought of herself when she was Sybil's age and how she had been terrified to leave her life in America behind to marry Robert but smiled, knowing now that it had all turned out for the better.

More than almost anything, she wished that she happiness for the most kind hearted of her three daughters.

"Perhaps, one day you could find both."

Sybil sighed distractedly, momentarily entertaining the idea of sharing her growing feelings for Tom Branson with her mother. Surely, her mother—an American born into the first generation of a wealthy family—wouldn't slight her for harbouring feelings for a working class politician.

But in the end she decided not to...

After all, Sybil didn't even know herself where she stood with Tom, let alone if they would ever see one another again after the misunderstanding and disagreement that had transpired between them.

Sybil wondered silently if she was in love with him.

She wondered if the purring warmth and the feeling of comfort and tenderness in her chest meant that she had given her heart away to Tom. She wondered if the spark that she felt burning beneath her skin when his fingers touched hers was there to tell her that she had fallen in love with him.

But unfortunately, like it was with so many other things; she couldn't be sure of any of it.

"I don't know, Mama", Sybil replied finally, finding that her response was the only honest answer that she could give both to her mother and to herself at this time. "I just don't know."


...

Branksom House

The London Residence of The Napier Family.

St James Square

...

The left side of his faint red lip tugged upwards, creating a sinister smile on his godlike face that cast a spell of lust on anyone who dared look his way.

Mid-turn, the dark eyes of Lady Mary Crawley briefly fluttered shut as she revelled in her surroundings, drinking in the intoxicating sensation of his hand upon her waist and how it set tiny sparks skittering across her skin.

Her body and mind seemed to want him, seemed to have chosen him as a good distraction to the conflict that was raging so vehemently inside her brain.

Despite this however, her heart was set rather traitorously and decidedly upon another...another that Mary knew she couldn't have.

So instead she focused on the man standing before her, she focused on the womanising Mr Pamuk and how being in his arms made her feel. Mary focused on her own desire and how it's burning intensity succeeded in drowning out the other conflicts in her life...particularly in relation to a certain scholarly heir of her father.

Pamuk glanced down at her with fire dancing in his eyes—burning like the innermost circle of Dante's inferno. It felt like oxygen and fuel to the glowing embers in her belly.

His eyes made her forget the world around her.

Mary knew that a lady of her good family and gentle breeding shouldn't be feeling the burning physical desire that she currently was but, somehow, she couldn't help the accelerated beating of her own heart...that one cumbersome and traitorous organ that bounded so defiantly against the thick and rigid material of her corset.

It didn't do so out of love though...what she felt for Kemal Pamuk was nothing short of pure and unadulterated lust, Mary was more than clever enough to tell the two apart.

Lust was a thin and shallow replica of love, based only on desire and conquest...but desire and conquest was enough for tonight.

Even with her eyes shut, Mary could feel his scorching gaze upon her, smell the exotic and alluring scent of whatever he had bathed in before the ball. It was alluring in a way few other things were, it made her body tingle pleasantly.

Being under Pamuk's gaze felt burning and addictive. To Mary it reminded her of sitting out underneath the burning sun on the hottest day of the year. She knew the exposure may ruin her complexion but she couldn't dare to drag herself away.

Mr Pamuk was a hurricane to be swept away in.

In that one confused moment, it seemed as though he was exactly what she needed...a wonderful and beautiful distraction from the life she could have had if she was only just a little bit braver send less dependant on the comforts and luxuries brought so readily to her by her title.

The young and enigmatic Turkish diplomat was proving to be a tempting distraction that gently nudged her mutinous thoughts away from her father's heir blonde haired and blue eyed heir.

If only momentarily...

Oh Goodness...how she wanted to forget her feelings for Matthew, forget his earnestness and his honesty. Above all else, she wanted to forget the softness that he so readily evoked in her cold-hearted self without ever really trying.

Rather determinedly, Mary tried to regain composure and control over herself. With an air of offhanded standoffishness, the eldest Crawley sister steeled her resolve, forcing herself not to imagine what Matthew's hands would feel like upon her waist in the place of Kemal Pamuk's

Absentmindedly, she blocked out the sights and sounds of the ballroom around them, around her and Kemal Pamuk.

She ignored the masses of people swaying to their left and right. Relatives, friends, acquaintances and strangers; they were all carelessly dancing the two fifth, completely oblivious to the storm that raged inside her.

Mary tried not to imagine the expression on his face; that one face that so devotedly sought out her's in the crowd. She had seen him earlier from across the room only moments before Kemal had asked her to dance.

Her Perseus.

Standing off to the side, chatting casually with some man Mary did not recognise, was her cousin—that same blonde haired and blued eyes individual who had been at the centre of her thoughts and rooted within her heart for far longer than Mary would ever admit.

Matthew.

His gaze wasn't scorching like Pamuk's, the difference was something she knew that better than almost anything.

The unwavering gaze of Matthew Crawley was comforting and familiar, rather like pleasantly drifting into a warm bath after a day's hunting—only it proved soothing to her aching heart as opposed to her aching muscles. His eyes didn't stare hungrily into hers like she was a meal to be ravaged, they were quietly piercing, imploring and questioning.

'Mary, what are you doing?', they seemed to ask.

She wasn't sure of the answer herself.

All that Mary knew was one simple fact; she couldn't live without Matthew...but she also couldn't live with him.

So in the meantime, the Evelyn Napiers and Kemal Pamuks of the world would just have to suffice in distracting her and quelling her true feelings for the man whom she really wanted.

And no one would ever have to know...


Usually Sybil Crawley prided herself on her tolerance. Eighteen years of playing the trusted referee between her two bickering older sisters had surely succeeded in teaching her that much.

However, despite her usually unwavering patience, Sybil was almost certain that if Larry made one more ill-timed comment about how poor people deserved to remain in poverty her drink may very well end up on his face.

She hid a smile at the idea of having such an unladylike outburst and instead tried desperately to tune out Larry Grey's obnoxious attempts at conversation.

The youngest Crawley sister sighed discreetly into her glass of champagne, finding herself increasingly unwilling to maintain the facade of politeness that she upheld for the sake of both her family and Larry's.

Covertly, she tried to glance over the aforementioned man's shoulder for someone else—anyone else—to talk to, but no such luck was to be had.

Edith was deep in friendly conversation with Sir Anthony Strallan and a number of his compatriots, clearly more delighted by the attentions of the former rather than the latter. Meanwhile Mary was situated, equally as happily it would seem, upon the dance floor with a Turkish friend of Evelyn Napier's.

The centre of the dance floor had been a place that the eldest Crawley had been no stranger to all evening and Sybil couldn't help but laugh at her eldest sister as she so effortlessly dazzled the room, no one seeming more dazzled than their poor cousin Matthew who's eyes had scarcely left Mary all evening .

Sybil glanced over in the direction of her cousin, prepared to feel all the sympathy and compassion in the world for him but immediately her attention was stolen by the presence of another man altogether.

Tom Branson...her Tom Branson.

Sybil's eyes widened as her gaze fell upon the very man whom she had been secretly hoping to see all evening, ever since the moment in the carriage when Mary had first informed her that several members of parliament would be in attendance at the ball.

She felt herself flush warmly at the sight of Tom Branson, remembering how they had parted. Her heavy silk ball gown suddenly felt quite a great deal hotter and more confining than it had been all evening.

Ignoring Larry Grey, she found herself happy to watch him.

No one feature of Tom's made him—in Sybil's opinion-so handsome...though his eyes came rather close. She had often heard people speak of the colour of eyes, as if that were of importance, yet she couldn't help but think that Tom's would be beautiful in any shade.

From their depths came an intensity, an honesty and an inherent gentleness that was all Tom.

'Perhaps', Sybil thought, 'that was what was meant by a true gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways'.

What Tom was, what was beautiful about him, came from deep within; it made Sybil want to feel how his lips move against her own in a kiss or how his hands would follow the curves of her body.

Sybil blushed, looking down at the train of her evening gown, unprepared to look Tom in the eye.

There was something about him that lit her up from the inside. Her heart bounded in her chest, a peculiar reaction that only Tom seemed capable of inspiring in her, making her feel alive in a way she had rarely ever experienced before meeting him.

Was that love?...Again, Sybil couldn't be sure.

She knew that she liked him...that she liked him quite a lot.

Tom was handsome from his cheeky smile to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was ridiculously attractive to her from his stimulating opinions to the touch of his hand upon her own. Sybil loved the way his voice quickened when he his mind sparkled with a new idea, or in the moments when he was so enjoying one of hers that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others.

In that moment, Sybil felt as though she had the strength and conviction to give Tom her heart and to kept his safe in return.

She watched smilingly as he chatted with Matthew, her conversation with Larry Grey long since having become one sided. Of all her family, she had always marked Matthew to be the one with whom Tom would most easily get along with.

Especially seeing as how their intelligence, good heartedness and middle class upbringings were not altogether too dissimilar from one another.

After some time, Sybil opted to risk the chance of being spotted by her parents and sisters. She decided that she would join Tom at the other side of the ballroom once his conversation with Matthew had run its course.

After all, she and Tom had quite a lot to talk about...or at least, she hoped they still had.

Sybil watched them until Matthew said his goodbyes and slipped back into the crowd, moving in the direction of a slender red haired woman whom she vaguely remembered being introduced as Lavinia Swire, the daughter of one of Matthew's law professors at Oxford.

Tom was left on his own, glancing around—as Sybil could only imagine—for some of his fellow members of the IPP, all of whom seemed to have, with the help of a few stiff drinks, integrated somewhat better into the party than Tom.

She found herself rather endeared by the uncertainty and awkwardness in his usually so determined expression.

Sybil glanced back up at Larry Grey, wondering how best to make her excuses to him...not that she was particularly concerned with his feelings but rather she did not wish to be too rude to him on account of the affable nature of his father, Richard Grey who was Mary's godfather.

"Would it be terrible if I asked you to excuse me for a moment, Larry?"

Before he could give much of an answer, Sybil made her escape. She waited for the crowd to somewhat swallow her up before she made her way across the room to Tom, checking to make sure that her family were all engaged in some manner and that she had put a reasonable distance between herself and the prying eyes of Larry Grey.

Smilingly, she watched as Tom tugged on the cuffs of his morning coat in a manner that had her repressing a giggle at his apparent annoyance at the garment.

While she had always been rather fond of him in the more casual and slightly scruffy suits that he usually wore, from the small distance that still remained between them Sybil found herself appreciating—not for the first time—how handsome a man he truly was.

"You've tidied up well, Tom", Sybil said, the words finding their way out of her mouth before her mind could come up with something even a little more eloquent to say in greeting. "You look very handsome."

Suddenly, now that they were standing face to face and there was no where else to go, Sybil found herself reminded of all the reasons she had been worried about their meeting one another again.

She blushed furiously at the forthrightness of her previous statement.

Seeming more than a little surprised, Tom finally smiled at her, an action that eased the knot of apprehension in her stomach and made her grin in return.

She felt his eyes linger somewhat shyly over her form, a small action that made her so immeasurably happier than the attention Larry Grey had shown to her.

"Darlin', if you think I'm handsome then you must be a vision."

Sybil smiled bashfully and found herself discreetly reaching for his hand.

The pleasant sensation of their fingers intertwined felt every bit as natural as it had ever been and both she and Tom let out a sigh of relief. There were clearly no longer any ill feelings between them. Absence had, indeed, made their hearts grow even fonder.

However, that didn't mean that they still hadn't quite a lot to discuss.

Glancing around once again to locate her family, Sybil ensured that they were out of earshot and otherwise engaged in conversations of their own.

Once she was certain that their actions were not being noticed by her mother or father, she gently tugged Tom in the direction of the ballroom door in an effort to find some measure of privacy—no matter how improper it may seem to anyone else who may spot them leaving. Among the nameless and faceless titled individuals present, Sybil didn't really care too much about exciting a few smiles and comments...not anyway, when it meant she would have a few precious moments alone with her favourite Irishman.

"Are you sure we won't get lost in a house this size, Love?", Tom asked with an affectionate smirk , more than happy to follow her away from the crowds of aristocrats...more than happy to follow her anywhere if he was being quite honest.

"Oh Tom", Sybil replied teasingly, feeling suddenly rather bold and playful in her actions. "I have a feeling that you wouldn't mind getting lost with me."

...

Don't tell me this is all for nothing

I can only tell you one thing

On the nights you feel outnumbered

Baby, I'll be out there somewhere

I see everything you can be

I see the beauty that you can't see

On the nights you feel outnumbered

Baby, I'll be out there somewhere

~I'll Be Out There Somewhere, Dermot Kennedy

...


I don't think I have mentioned anything historical here so I don't think a note is necessary. I hope you are all still enjoying this story, sorry for the late update. Life has been hectic recently! But in consolation, this chapter is twice as long as it's predecessor :)

Anyways, I would be thrille if you were to let me know what you thought. Let me knlw if you are enjoying this story so far or if you have any predictions and requests for later chapters. I would absolutely love to hear from you.

Thank you sooo much to everyone who has reviewed so far, it literally makes my day.

Hope you all have a great week!

Pearlydewdrop xx