A/N: Thanks so much to the reviews of the last chapter. When I planned this story I always had this year in mind but somehow when I began writing I took it in a very different direction that I had planned. I hope you'll like it and any reviews (good or bad) would be appreciated.

MAY 1939

Finishing the last of his bacon and egg sandwich that his sister Maeve had made this morning, Tom leaned backed in his seat and looked out the large window of the train compartment. As he looked at the passing English countryside he thought how this day had begun so much like that day twenty years ago when the incessant rain of the night was chased away as the rising sun spread a golden glow across an almost cloudless sky and leaving the air fresh as it is after a spring rain. As the train headed into the hills and farmland the newly green fields glistened in the sunshine and here and there puddles attested to the night's rain. From his window seat Tom could see that the trees and blooming plants sparkled as the sunlight hit droplets of rain left behind on their leaves and petals. In the distance the spire of an ancient stone church jutted into the sky, its stone, darkened by age, a contrast to the light sky.

It was a wonderful spring morning just as that so long ago day had been. It was a day he had dreamed about for so many years and thought would never come to pass. As he had dressed in his best suit, a dark gray suit he had bought with his first earnings from his new job, with his black leather shoes that had been freshly shined and the white shirt his mother had carefully ironed he thought he was the luckiest man in the world. Walking towards the red painted wooden church doors with his two brothers, he had stopped outside the stone church, the church of his boyhood, and looked up at the almost cloudless sky. The air was scented by the two overgrown lilac bushes that flanked the steps into the church. Looking at the sunlit sky and smelling the sweet lilacs he thought it was the most beautiful day for a wedding.

The dreams and hopes of that glorious spring morning had come crashing down not much more than a year later. He had been left heartbroken and what had gotten him through those first horrible years and been their daughter. Tom glanced across the small train compartment where Sybbie sat with her face turned towards the window seemingly absorbed in the English countryside passing by.

That little bundle that Sybil had so joyously held for that all too short time was no longer a child for this year Sybbie would turn nineteen. Sometimes it was hard to believe so many years had passed and how many times they had made this same trip. Those first years when the grief was still so raw he had carried his daughter in his arms and she was oblivious to the absence of her mother. Then there were the years when mummy was someone in photographs and the concept of death was beyond a toddler.

The sight of a field of cows caused Tom to remember little Sybbie's excitement at seeing the world beyond their train window; the clapping of her little hands and crooning moo as the train had rambled passed fields of cows, the squeals of delight as horses trotted across pastures.

"What are you finding so amusing?" His daughter's voice brought him to the present.

"Just remembering how excited you were the first time we saw cows out that window and your squeals of delight as seeing horses trotting around those pastures."

"Ah horses" Sybbie sighed. "That was the last time we came here" she shifted slightly in her seat. "I rode that pony and we had a picnic. It was a wonderful afternoon." Tom nodded.

"But we never came after that." It was clear from her voice and the look on her face this was more than a statement; it was an implicit appeal as to why.

"No we never came again after that." He softly murmured as he turned his face towards the window.

"Why?"

Although he knew his daughter was waiting for an answer he stared out the window thinking of that last visit and the conversation he'd had with Cora. He had kept his word and had never told his daughter that her grandparents had refused to attend his and Sybil's wedding, had never told her how he blamed her grandfather for Sybil's death, had never spoke of the disdain her grandfather had for him.

"Usually this day is a school day and I couldn't take you out of school for the two or three days it takes to come here and back to Ireland." He turned and faced her "but we've still always honored your mother on this day."

It was true Sybbie thought as she leaned back in her seat. Every year she had her father had gone to the church where her parents were married and lit a candle and said prayers for her mother and then as was their tradition they went to tea. But still she thought there was something he wasn't telling her.

Although it had been several years since they had been here their actions were the same as before; lighting candles and saying a prayer in the chapel before visiting Sybil's grave. There Sybbie took special care in arranging the large bouquet of flowers they had brought.

"It looks beautiful Daddy" she said as she admired her handiwork.

"Aye it does luv" her father replied.

"Tell me a story about mummy that you've never told me before" Sybbie asked.

"Well" Tom looked at the stone tomb, running his hand over the top of it. "Did I ever tell you about the time I took your mother for a canoe ride?"

Mary was surprised to see Tom and Sybbie laughing for she had expected Tom to be especially sorrowful on this day. She paused in her step. Twenty years she thought. How could it be twenty years since that wonderful beautiful creature that was her sister had walked down that shabby aisle in Dublin? I've missed you every day Mary quietly said.

After Sybbie left with Mary Tom was alone in the cemetery his thoughts very much on that day twenty years ago. His hand slowly caressed the carved Sybil lingering over each letter as if committing it to memory. He heard the sounds of footsteps but thought it was much too soon for Mary to have returned but then again he was known to get lost in his thoughts here. Turning around he saw an elderly lady her hands carrying two large baskets of flowers. It wasn't until she was almost even with him that he realized who it was.

"Here let me help you Mrs. Crawley" he said as he took off his hat and stepped forward to take the baskets. "I mean … Lady …"

Seeing his uncertainty, Isobel smiled "it's Merton but I think we're related enough that you can call me Isobel" as she handed him one of the baskets. She thought the man standing before her looked much as he did all those years ago. She glanced at Sybil's grave. "Mary's told me you often come here on your and Sybil's anniversary."

"Aye" he said as his attention also turned to his beloved wife's grave. "Of course now that I'm in Ireland it's much harder."

She nodded her head as she stepped closer to him. Looking down at the flowers Tom and Sybbie had arranged she remarked "the flowers look beautiful. Is there any particular reason they're all white and shades of purple?"

"Those were the colors of flowers Sybil carried in her wedding bouquet."

"Ahhh" Isobel murmured as she nodded her head. "I imagine she was a beautiful bride." She sighed "it's hard to believe how long that wonderful young woman has been gone."

"Aye" Tom answered just as softly.

Isobel looked across the graveyard and Tom followed her sight to Matthew and then Violet's graves. "Now there's so many that have joined her."

She looked down at the basket in her hand. "I like to bring flowers here … I think it … it gives me a bit of comfort."

Tom walked with her to Matthew's grave where Isobel arranged some of her flowers in a metal vase. "After all these years I still sometimes think of something and say to myself 'I'll have to ask Matthew' or …" she didn't continue but gazed at the tall headstone. "At least I got to see Matthew grow into a fine young man and fall in love and become a father which is more than his own father got."

She didn't wait for Tom to reply instead moving on to Violet's grave. As she began filled another metal vase with flowers he said "Your old sparring partner."

She looked at him in surprise and he chuckled. "You forget how many times I drove the two of you."

It was her turn to chuckle.

"I always admired the way you didn't let her or any of them for that matter cower you" he said.

"I think you did rather well too in that department. You did marry his lordship's daughter."

"But they accepted you, you were the mother of the heir. I was always just the chauffeur to them even after I married Sybil."

"I think …" she looked away from him. "Mary's certainly accepted you and George" she chuckled "George is still talking about those trips to Ireland and that time they met you and your family in Wales. He still writes to your nephew Billy."

"He's a good lad George. Reminds me a lot of Matthew."

Isobel looked across the graveyard to a tall headstone much like Matthew's where the ground still had the faint outline of the newer grave. As the pair walked towards that grave Tom said "I'm sorry to hear of Lord Merton's death" Tom said. "Mary mentioned it in one of her letters."

"I bring the best flowers to his grave. He loved gardening."

Completing her task of filling the vases she stood up and took a deep breath. "It's funny that after so many years alone, years I always thought I was content, this wonderful man came into my life." She smiled wistfully as she looked down at the grave. "I had forgotten how nice it is to have someone to …" she slightly shook her head "to share a cup of tea with while you sit in front of the fire on a cold winter evening or out in the garden at the end of a warm summer day, someone to hug you when you've had a bad day or to laugh with you over the follies of life.

She looked at Tom. "Life can be a long time. I'm glad that you've found someone else to share it with. I would think that Sybil would be very happy about that."

"Stop the motor!" Sybbie excitedly called out catching Mary by surprise. "Whatever-" Mary began but Sybbie continued. "That … that" Sybbie said pointing at the Abbey "that is your house … that's where my mother grew up?"

Stopping the motor car, Mary looked at the place where she had lived all her life. The honey colored stone glowed in the warm morning sun and the turrets seemed to rise almost into the clouds.

"I thought it was just my imagination, something I had dreamed" Sybbie was saying "I thought it was a castle only in my dreams."

As the motor car approached the house Sybbie could see a man and woman standing outside the doorway. "Is that my grandfather standing beside Grandma Cora?"

"Yes" Mary quickly replied.

Sybbie glanced at her aunt. "Why didn't my grandfather meet me when I came here as a little girl?"

Mary stopped the motor car by the cedar tree. "It's not that he didn't want to meet you it's more a matter of -" Mary wasn't sure what to say.

"There's bad blood between my father and grandfather?" Sybbie glanced towards the house and then back to her aunt.

"They're two very different men from very different worlds with nothing in common but they both loved your mother very deeply" Mary answered. She looked over at her niece "But your father brought you here today knowing you'd meet your grandfather and your grandfather's so eager to meet you."

Mary began slowly driving forward. She had barely stopped the motor car when both her parents rushed forward towards the car. With no hesitation Cora embraced her granddaughter, holding her tightly as if to remind herself this wasn't a mirage. Her arms still holding Sybbie's shoulders, Cora leaned back remarking "you're so grown up."

Sybbie's matter-of-fact reply "I am almost nineteen Grandma Cora" caused Cora to laugh.

A slight cough from Robert, his way of saying I'm here, made Cora gesture towards Robert. "This is your grandfather Sybbie" she said as Robert eagerly stepped forward. But Sybbie stood still, a bit hesitant looking at her grandfather noting his beaming smile that lit up his eyes. She paused so long that Robert's smile began to fade. Finally she said "I guess it's time we met" and much to his delight she stepped closer and allowed herself to be enveloped in a warm hug.

When Mary returned to the graveyard to pick up Tom she was surprised to find him standing at the churchyard gate talking to Isobel. She was glad to see him smiling and laughing for she'd feared his mood would become doleful being alone in the cemetery after she left to take Sybbie up to the abbey.

Without waiting for Tom to talk Mary said "It went fine" as he lowered himself into the passenger seat. "He's been so excited about finally properly" Mary emphasizing properly "meeting Sybbie that I can't imagine he'd say anything to jeopardize creating a relationship with her."

When Mary stopped the motor car a very short ride from the village at a pub on the road to Ripon Tom raised his eyebrow and looked questioning as if asking is this a new Mary?

"I know for a fact they have some very good meats" she said to his unasked question. As she opened her door she added "They buy some from us."

Lunch started as a rather light-hearted affair so typical of two old friends who meet infrequently. Catching up on their lives since they had last met not quite two years ago in Oxford when Tom and Aoibhinn attended the graduation of one of Aoibhinn's former charges who, much to Mary's surprise, was the heir to a Marquis (which had caused Mary to think Really first humble Bertie becomes a Marquis and now Aoibhinn is revealed as the beloved former nanny of a future Marquis whatever is this world coming to).

Catching up on their lives they had chatted of this and that and nothing of much consequence. Yet through their light meal of bangers and mash (the Bransons have had some effect on you thought Tom) washed down with pints of ale (a very good effect thought Tom) Tom couldn't help but think Mary's banter hid something more serious and Mary thought Tom barely concealed his anxiety at Sybbie meeting her grandfather.

"So how are you doing Mary?" Tom politely asked although gone were the deep circles under eyes and the paleness of the last time they had met in Oxford nor did she look so painfully thin as she had then.

Mary gave a slight shrug of her shoulders as she tilted her head. "I've adjusted if that's what you mean. At least I no longer think of myself as Lady Mary the divorcee. My social life has been a few dinner parties, mainly with parents of Caroline or George's school friends, or some weekends with old friends. I've become quite active in local fox hunts and all the social events that entails. Caroline shares my passion for horses and she's become quite the equestrian and competes in horse shows."

"Between all that and managing the estate I keep busy." She looked at him and smiled. "Most nights I fall into bed exhausted.

"That tells me what you're doing but not how you are doing."

"I … I …" Mary took a sip of her ale and then her fingers toyed with the rim of the tall glass. "I'll admit it was tough for a while. I felt like a failure and I hated that. Sometimes I thought what can I do, how can I change this. Then one evening I met Henry in London to go over some financial details and … I thought he looked handsome and charming and I thought of what attracted me to him in the first place. As the evening went on, dinner and drinks and it was all quite pleasant actually, no recriminations, no rancor, I realized I just didn't love him anymore."

Pulling her hand away from the glass, she shrugged. "And that was that. Because of Caroline and George he's always going to be in my life so I do still see him occasionally of course for holidays or birthdays, that sort of thing and it's all quite amiable but the minute he's out the door I don't think of him at all.

"I'm glad for you." He smiled that lopsided grin that she had come to know so well. "Who knows … you're still youngish-"

"Youngish! Shouldn't I be a bit insulted at that?"

"I'm a journalist Mary I deal in facts."

"Ouch! That's even worse." She feigned indignation.

"Just don't give up hope … look at Isobel and Lord Merton."

"So I have to wait another 20 years to fall in love again?"

"If it takes that long" he shrugged. Then grinning he added "maybe I could help you get started you could come to London with me and act as my secretary. I'll probably be meeting some very influential men in my meetings and interviews."

She rolled her eyes. "I hardly think …" Then her eyes widened. "What is Sybbie going to do while you're interviewing these influential men?

"She has a list of places she wants to see and visit."

Mary was aghast. "You mean you're going to let her wander around London on her own?"

"She's almost nineteen Mary and this isn't 1910. I hardly think she needs a chaperone."

"Actually" Tom's eyes seem to light up. "Why don't you take a break and come with us? You'd get to spend time alone with Sybbie."

"So I'd play chaperone and not your secretary?" She chuckled.

"Well I wouldn't say to Sybbie you're her chaperone. It would be more like Aunt spending time with her favorite niece."

As their plates were cleared and a second ale presented to Tom, Mary turned serious. "So do you think there will be war?"

He took a sip of the ale before answering. "I'll have a much better sense of things when I get to London but it appears the English government is certainly preparing for it. England's declared her support if Germany attacks Poland, the Royal Amoured Corps has been created and now it looks as if the Military Training Act will pass."

Mary fingered her almost empty glass. "I hate the thought of another war. Especially since-" Tom reached across the table and took her hand in his. "Even if the Military Training Act passes George is still too young."

"But if the war goes on and on like the last one …" she shrugged her shoulders. "I can't help but think of what Matthew went through."

Sybbie had stood at the entrance to Downton, her head leaning back trying to see the top of the turrets. "This place is enormous" voicing her thought out loud. Her question of "how many rooms are there?" had been followed by "whatever do you do with all of them?" and "do you ever get lost?"

Sybbie had stood in the Grand Salon trying to take in the grandeur of it. With its intricate carvings on the wood panels as well as the stone arches that rose to its soaring ceiling it didn't seem like a room in someone's home. Although the fireplace was huge she couldn't imagine it could heat this space. Ever so practical she had asked "How cold is it here in winter?"

The library was impressive just for the sheer volume of books it contained. She thought with its fireplace it might be a fine place to curl up with a book but those red sofas didn't look too comfortable.

The dining room didn't fare much better in Sybbie's opinion. As she and her grandparents sat at the table she looked around at the paintings covering almost every inch of wall and couldn't imagine why someone would want those portraits of gruff unsmiling faces looking down on them while they ate. "Wouldn't some pretty landscapes or seascapes be much nicer" she had ventured to say.

Lunch however certainly met her approval.

"You remember the sandwiches I like" she exclaimed looking at the array of salmon, chicken salad, and open-face shrimp sandwiches arranged on plates in the center of the table along with another plate of small cheese and bacon tarts and another plate holding an assortment of raw vegetables. Looking at her granddaughter's beaming face Cora could help but smile. "Well when a little girl eats ten shrimp sandwiches it leaves an impression."

Her eyes widened. "I don't think it was ten Grandma Cora. But then they were very good."

Cora had wanted lunch to be an informal affair not just because she surmised Sybbie wasn't accustomed to being served course after course by hovering footmen while being under the watchful eye of a butler but because she thought a relaxed setting would be more conducive to conversation. And, much to Cora's delight, the conversation did seem to easily flow among the three of them.

Both Robert and Cora thought of how much Sybbie reminded them of her mother when discussing her first term at university. I haven't decided yet on what I what to study because there's so much I want to learn. Robert had chuckled when Sybbie had said what if the job I'd really like is one not open to women?

And both were somewhat amused when Sybbie had asked have you ever thought of moving somewhere a bit more cozier? And even more amused when she had said I guess it would be fun living here as a child. There'd be so many places to play sardines and one could play bowling in the hallways.

Robert had winced the first time Sybbie called her stepmother mum and while it broke his heart a bit he was glad she had a mother and brothers and sisters she obviously adored.

There weren't that many people waiting on the platform, after all this was the Downton Railway Station, and Robert easily spotted them standing together. Rather than immediately walking up to the pair, Robert stood off to the side at the far end of the platform and unobtrusively observed the man who had been his son-in-law. The years had been kind to him thought Robert for Branson seemed to have changed very little although there was the slightest bit of gray in his hair and his suit was certainly of a better fit and quality than the ill-fitting cheap ones he had worn at Downton. He seemed relaxed and smiled at something Sybbie said to him.

Robert looked away from his granddaughter and her father. Suddenly feeling a bit hesitant he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Bra … Tom." Hearing his name the smile on Tom's face disappeared. The voice was clear and upper-crust English although maybe not quite as authoritative as he remembered and while it may have been almost twenty years Tom immediately knew that voice without having to turn and look at the man who was now standing just off to his side. Instead looking at his daughter's face he saw the surprise in her eyes as she looked towards her grandfather before he slowly turned to face the man he had thought he'd never again see in this life.

Robert Crawley stood there, his hand holding his hat which he brushed against his pants leg. He had aged thought Tom as he noticed the gray hair and the lines around the still vibrant blue eyes and the well-made suit couldn't hide the extra pounds. He didn't doff his hat as might have been expected all those years ago instead Tom slightly nodded his head.

"I'm glad to catch you before your train left" Robert's stated. Then warmly smiling at Sybbie he continued "I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to properly meet my granddaughter. Over the years Cora has often shared her letters with me and I've seen the photographs but that's not quite the same as actually-" Robert looked down at the platform and sighed.

He hadn't been sure what to expect from his former son-in-law and the man's silence was making this any easier. But then Robert thought it wasn't really in Branson's place to make this easier.

He took another deep breath before raising his head and looking directly at Tom. "I can't change what I did or said and I can't claim it was only because of my grief at losing Sybil. I've had plenty of time to … to … well I'd like to think I'm not the same man I was then. I can see things a bit differently now. I realize how much my daughter loved you. This may be twenty years too late but I am truly sorry for not seeing what my daughter saw in you and for not accepting you. I can't ask you to forgive me but at least" Robert offered his hand to Tom "accept my apology."

Tom heard the sincerity in Robert's voice and looking into his blue eyes, eyes so much like Sybil's, saw the sadness. "We're both different men now" Tom said as he shook Robert's hand.

Instead of walking directly back to the Abbey Robert made a detour, heading towards the village graveyard. The late afternoon light angled through the tall trees dappling the gravel path across the village green with golden sunlight. When he reached the wooden gate of the church yard the sun cast a warm glow on the old stone church. He didn't head for the church door but instead made his way around the building to the graveyard.

It was a familiar route for him for unbeknownst to his wife or daughters he made this journey at least once a week to the stone tomb of his youngest daughter. His visits here were usually quick, a few words spoken, his hand resting on top of the tomb, the stone seemingly cold regardless of the weather, his eyes watering even all these years later at the chiseled words Beloved Daughter. Sometimes he brought flowers often the first blooms of spring or a few of her favorite roses.

Today bouquets of white and purple flowers mixed with greenery filled the permanent flower urns causing a continuous line of flowers along the bottom of the tomb. Intermingled throughout the bouquets were large sprays of lilacs in various shades of purple and their sweet scent filled the air around the tomb. It was a lovely display and Robert thought how much Sybil would love it.

Taking his hat off Robert bowed his head as he ran his hand along the edge of the tomb. "It's a beautiful spring day" he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper "the kind of day you loved."

He paused as he looked up at the late afternoon cloudless blue sky. A few leaves adorning the old oak tree whose branches overhung the stone fence rustled in a slight breeze. Looking down he began talking once more. "She's so lovely. He's done a wonderful job raising your daughter. You'd be so proud she's finished her first year at university …