May 1946
She had last made this trip seven years ago. It was 1939, before the war, she had just finished her first term at university and she had come to Downton to properly meet her grandfather. It had seemed odd to be almost 19 and meeting a grandfather for the first time but there was a strong rift between her father and her grandfather. It was a subject her father had refused to elaborate on while Aunt Mary would only say they were two very different men from very different worlds with nothing in common except their love of her mother.
Much to her father's her grandfather had come to the railway station where she and her father were waiting for their return train. They had talked and even shook hands but … she looked across the railway compartment to where her father sat reading the newspaper. Maybe if the war hadn't intervened maybe Daddy and Grandfather Robert could have … she shrugged her shoulders as she turned her face towards the window and looked out at the English countryside.
"It looks much as I remember Daddy" Sybbie finally said aloud.
Tom nodded as he looked out the window towards the gently rolling hills with their low stone fences separating fields of sheep grazing on the fresh spring grass. In the distance was a village as noted by the tile roofs visible through the lush greenery with a stone steeple rising above the surrounding trees. "Aye."
"After hearing so much about all the bombing and seeing the destruction in Liverpool I guess … I thought … well …" Sybbie gave a slight shrug "I thought it would somehow be different."
Since the destruction was still so visible in Liverpool it seemed strange, yet somehow comforting, that this countryside seemed unaffected by the war. Yet Tom knew that despite its appearance the war had intruded on these farms and fields and villages they passed as the train made its way from Liverpool. How many men that had lived in those villages or farmed those fields never came home? Or how many came home aged by the horrors they had seen or experienced? And what of their families? War, he thought, left so many scars and not always physical ones.
As the train passed a field with several horses contentedly grazing on the spring grass Tom smiled remembering how excited young Sybbie had been to see horses or cows and sheep in the fields. In his mind he picture little Sybbie, dressed in her Sunday best, standing in front of the window imitating the sounds of a cow or stomping her little leg like a horse, clapping her hands, laughing, her face aglow in pure delight at something so simple. He turned from the window to look at the Sybbie sitting across the aisle and it brought home to him how the years had passed. Although he often still thought of her as a child she had long ago shed any vestiges of childhood. Seeing her now as she looked out the window, her face glowing with delight, he was struck once again by how much Sybbie resembled her mother. It was hard to imagine that she was now older than her mother had ever been.
"It does remind me of Ireland" Sybbie finally commented.
"I know" her father replied. "When I first came to Downton I was surprised how much it made me think of Ireland. Not the house mind you but that I could wander off and find a field bordered by stone fences or look out at the gently rolling hills dotted with sheep."
Sybbie sighed. "I think America will be much different though."
Tom looked intently at his daughter. He had been surprised when she hadn't readily accepted the offer from Aoibhinn's father of a family trip to America to visit Aoibhinn's sister. "You could still come with us, I'm sure his Lordship wouldn't mind you starting in a month or so."
Sybbie's face turned towards the window. "No I said I'd start next week."
There would be no more comments on the trip to America for she rapidly changed subjects. "Do you think I'll have to call him your Lordship? I mean Mum calls him Mr. James which seems funny when you considered she changed his nappies and powdered his bum."
Tom chuckled. "I don't think I'd bring that up … that is the nappies and his bum."
Sybbie joined her father in laughing. "All these titles the English have is rather silly isn't it. A proper Mister or Missus or Miss seems all that's needed."
"Spoken like a true republican" Tom smiled.
"Well I informed George don't expect me to call him sir or your lordship." As if to emphasize her point Sybil crossed her arms and nodded her head.
Then in a demonstration once again of those rapid changes in conversation she made Sybbie turned and looked at her father. "I wonder if County Durham will be so different from Ireland. Mum says there's wonderful beaches there."
Tom raised his brow. "You haven't even started working and you're already thinking about going to the beach?"
"Well surely I'll have time off" Sybbie retorted.
"Are you sure you really want to do this? This job I mean." Tom asked.
Sybbie looked at her father as if he had suddenly grown horns. "Of course Daddy." She smiled at him. "It will be a grand adventure."
As the train headed further east the early morning sun of Liverpool slowly faded leaving a gray sky threatening rain. Somewhere north of Manchester that threat became real as fat drops of rain began splattering against the window and soon a pouring rain was beating against the railway car leaving only faintly visible here and there snippets of the passing countryside.
Heaving a heavy sigh Tom stated "I guess we won't be having a picnic."
"Maybe Aunt Mary will have the staff erect one of those big tents on the lawn" countered Sybil. Then seeing her father's furrowed brow she giggled.
"Maybe she'll just have them stand over us with some really huge umbrellas" Tom quipped causing Sybbie to giggle even more.
"Or …" Sybbie scrunched her face as if trying to remember something. "Ah!" her hand tapped her chin. "I seem to recall in the garden there's those big bushes that form arches. Maybe we can sit inside the arches." Her eyes glinted with amusement as she looked at her father "on chairs of course around a proper table but not set with the best china" she added causing both of them to laugh.
By Leeds the rain had become a fine mist and shortly before their arrival in Downton the rain had stopped with the sun making a feeble attempt to appear in the heavily clouded sky. Tom was quite surprised to find Mary waiting for them at the railway station, standing by a 1930s pick-up truck. He had a smart comment about the truck on the tip of his tongue but, seeing the broad smile that filled Mary's face at the sight of them, he instead opted to say "What a nice surprise" as he walked towards her.
They greeted each other as old friends do, with heartfelt hugs and warm kisses on the cheeks, as Sybbie stood watching them.
"I guessed what train you might be on. It was raining quite hard just a short time ago. I thought you might need these" she said as she held up a couple of folded umbrellas.
Breaking from Tom's embrace, Mary held out her arms to Sybbie. "It's so wonderful to see you. It's been far too long" she said as she enveloped Sybbie in a warm embrace. Then stepping back at arm's length Mary narrowed her eyes as she gazed at her niece. Gone was any hint of that gangly teenager replaced by a slim young woman fashionably dressed in a deep violet A-line skirt with matching belted jacket and a jaunty black hat with a purple feather. "You … you're ... so grown up."
Sybbie sighed as she tapped her foot and tilted her head in a way so reminiscent of her mother. "I'm not a little girl anymore Aunt Mary. Since you saw me last I've finished university and during the war I was up north working for the Americans and now I'm on my way to a job in County Durham."
"And you're making me feel old" Tom chuckled.
Mary parked the truck at the village square beside the stone wall separating the church yard from the road. Claiming she had an errand to run, Mary left Sybbie and Tom, along with a wicker basket filled with freshly cut flowers, at the entrance gate to the church yard. Knowing it was just an excuse to let him and Sybbie have some alone time at the graveyard, Tom watched her walk away thinking despite how different she was now from his days of working here she was still very much Lady Mary of proper manners and etiquette.
Turning towards the church yard Tom hesitated, his hand resting on top of the slatted wooden gate as he took a deep breath. Despite the passing of the years and how happy he was now, Tom still felt a bit of sorrow whenever he came here.
Sensing what her father was feeling, Sybbie placed her hand on top of his. Remembering what he had said to her in her grief on Uncle Darragh's death she said softly"Those we love never really leave our lives and certainly not our hearts."
He slowly nodded his head then smiling he put his arm around her shoulders. "So you do listen to me" he teased.
"Sometimes" Sybbie teasingly replied.
Sybbie was glad she was wearing her sturdy black low heeled oxfords for the uneven stone pavement that wound through the churchyard was wet and heavy with puddles. The interior of the old stone church was quiet, cool and with little sun light pouring through the stained glass windows the votive candles she and her father lit seem like beacons in the otherwise dim sanctuary. After lighting a candle for her mother she lit a second candle in honor of her grandfather, a man she had only met twice, and one of those times surreptitiously and unaware he was her grandfather. Despite that she was sad he was gone for she had enjoyed getting to know him through their correspondence and, maybe more importantly to her, through him learning a bit more about her mother.
"It's been over a year now but I still find it hard to believe he's gone" Mary said as she came to stand beside Sybbie in front of Robert's grave. "Sometimes even now when I go through the morning post I think Papa should answer this letter or see to this matter."
Mary reached her hand out to touch the engraved Robert Crawley. "For so long after I inherited Matthew's half of the estate Papa and I fought so much. I thought he was just being obstinate and resentful of my wanting to have a say in how the estate should be managed. In many ways he couldn't or maybe didn't want to acknowledge that times have changed and we had to change or the estate would go under." She ran her hand along the engraving "but I didn't give him credit or see how much better he was than me dealing with the tenants and some of the suppliers.
She took a deep breath as she removed her hand from the headstone and turned to look at her niece. "I think the highlight of his last couple of years were the letters you wrote him. When one came in the post his eyes would light up and his face beamed in delight."
"I found them … your letters … in his desk tied together with a blue ribbon. You can take them if you want. I…" she glanced again at her father's headstone "I didn't read any of them."
Sybbie gave a slight shrug of her shoulders as she laughed. "It's not like there was anything secret in them Aunt Mary."
"No … but … well he shared tidbits from your letters but he never let us, not even Mama, read them."
Sybbie smiled. "You know we only really met that once, the last time I came here just before the war, so through our correspondence I got to know him in a way I never did in person. I'm glad for that."
She looked back across the graveyard to her mother's grave where her father still stood with his bare head bent down as he focused on the stone casket. She knew he was holding his hat in one hand while the other traced the etched words Sybil Cora Branson, just as she knew he was quietly talking to her.
She turned her attention back to her grandfather's grave. "Through his letters I got to know my mother a little more too since he often wrote about her, usually stories of when she was a child. Sometimes he'd say I had written about doing something that reminded him of her-"
"Like those silly American words or phrases you wrote" Mary interrupted. "I remember Sybil went through this phase, she was about eight maybe ten, when she said she was improving … no … expanding that was the word she used" Mary chuckled. "Expanding her vocabulary. It was to me, in a word she would use a bunch of fiddle-faddle, but she'd come up with all these odd and silly words like codswallop and bumfuzzled"
"Fiddle-faddle indeed." Sybbie laughed out loud and was joined by Mary in doing so too. Between laughs Sybbie managed to say "Not even knowing what bumfuzzled means it's a word I'd like to use."
After their laughter died down Mary said quietly. "She was his favorite. Although he'd probably never admit it but she was, Edith and I both knew it. We could never make him laugh the way she did."
As Mary stopped the truck in front of the Abbey Tom turned to her. "Before we go in there's something I'd like to show Sybbie and we might not have time after luncheon. We won't be long."
Curious as to what Tom wanted to show his daughter, Mary watched as the pair walked further down the gravel drive. Suddenly it dawned on her the two were headed for the garage.
Tom stood outside the brick building surveying it with a critical eye. The double wooden doors had been painted dark green but otherwise it looked as he remembered although much smaller than in his memory. "When I think of Downton I don't think of that grand house but rather of this place."
"Your grandfather had a 1912 Renault and it was the most wonderful motor car. I had been a chauffeur in Ireland but never with a car like that. That Renault was a real beauty and I had never driven anything so grand."
Sybbie couldn't help but smile as she listened to her father talking about that car and his work here for she was well aware of her father's love of motor cars. It was a love that he had passed down to his older sons and even she knew the difference between a wrench and a ratchet and knew how to use both.
"But my heart will always have a fondness for this place because it was here where my friendship with your mother grew and when you mother accepted my marriage proposal where we had our first kiss when your mother."
Sybbie's eyes widened in surprise. "You proposed to Mummy in a garage?"
Tom chuckled at his daughter's disbelief or was it astonishment, he wasn't quite sure. "No silly this is where she finally accepted my proposal. But I'm not sure where I proposed was any more romantic."
Sybbie walked through one of the open garage doors and stood in the middle of the empty space looking all around. "How could it not be more romantic than this?" she finally asked.
"Well …" Tom, holding his hat in one hand tapping it against his leg while with his other hand he raked his fingers through his hair.
Sybbie turned towards him, tapping her foot on the cement floor. "Well" she demanded.
"I proposed to her when I took her to her nursing training."
"So did you stop the motor car in some scenic spot? Maybe have a picnic …" she looked hopefully at him.
Sheepishly Tom replied "Actually it was at the nursing school. I carried in her luggage to the entrance and there underneath a brick archway …" he smiled at his daughter. "But it was a very attractive brick archway." Left unsaid was that it was facing a courtyard where amputees were exercising. He tapped his hat against his leg. "I was so afraid I'd never see her again, that after her training she'd be assigned to a hospital in London or along the coast somewhere."
"But if you proposed to her there how did she come to accept your proposal here?"
Tom sighed. "She … well she didn't really give me an answer that day. Not really." He looked around the garage and everywhere he looked he envision Sybil, sitting at that work bench, standing beside the Renault, standing just inside the doorway.
Sybbie narrowed her eyes as she looked at her father. "You're not going to tell me the rest of the story?"
He opened his ornate silver pocket watch that Sybil had given him so long ago. Seeing My best time is spent with you. Love Sybil etched on the lid caused him to smile. So much of that time had been spent in this garage. "They're waiting on us for luncheon so we had better get up to the house." With that he put his arm around her shoulders and led her up the gravel drive towards the house.
"Daddy!" Sybbie implored "tell me the rest of the story."
"Okay" he grunted. "She kept me waiting for two years. Then late one evening-"
"Two years!" Sybbie abruptly stopped walking.
Tom chuckled. "Yes two years. The war was raging and she was so immersed in her work. She asked me to wait for her answer until after the war. Obviously it wasn't a decision she made lightly. She was leaving all this" he nodded towards the house. "The war had ended maybe a month or so before, and late one evening she walked into the garage looking so beautiful in her black and gray evening gown and said she was ready… ready to begin a new life away from here … in Ireland with me."
Unlike last year when he had come to the Abbey Tom didn't hesitate at the forbidding wooden front doors nor did he pull on the menacing wolf's head door knocker and wait for the door to be opened by the butler. The sprinkling of rain that had begun as he and Sybbie walked up the gravel drive had turned to fat drops of rain just within reach of the doors and so it was the rain that rushed them into the house.
After dropping his hat on one of the hall tables in the marbled entrance Tom ushered Sybbie through the door way into what the family called the "small library" and then walking past the tall pillars that separated this room from the library proper. Spotting her grandmother sitting on one of those stiff red sofas Sybbie cried out "Grandmother Cora" as she rushed across the large room to her.
The smile on Cora's face was genuine and full of love and she tightly hugged her oldest grandchild. "It's so wonderful to finally see you again." Then, like Mary had done, still holding her granddaughter she stepped back an arm's length and looked intently at her. Her words "You're so grown up" caused Sybbie to laugh as she looked over to Mary.
"That's what Aunt Mary said to me. Really did the two of you think I'd still be a teenager! It's been seven years!"
"Sometimes I wish she was still a teenager and then I wouldn't be so old" Tom laughed.
He watched as Cora, with her dark hair and blue eyes that reminded him of Sybil, walked towards him, a warming smile on her pleasant face. "It's nice to see you again Tom."
It might have been an awkward meeting for the last time he had seen his former mother-in-law had been an unpleasant one years ago yet whatever animosity he had harbored over what he perceived as Cora's deceit had long ago dissipated. He smiled as he kissed her cheek. "You're looking well."
"And you too" he said as he looked to Isobel. "Sybbie this is George's grandmother Mrs. Craw- I mean Lady Mer-"
"Now Tom" Isobel broke in "I thought we established the last time I saw you that we're close enough family to call me Isobel. And you" she looked at Sybbie "well your mother always called me Cousin Isobel and I think that would do for you too."
As the two older women and Tom and Sybbie continued to chatter Mary rang the servant's bell and shortly thereafter Thomas appeared.
"I think we're ready for luncheon Barrow."
Before turning to leave the library the butler looked at Tom and nodded his head as a way of greeting. "Thomas" Tom replied to the butler's nod.
It was on the tip of Thomas' tongue to remind the former chauffeur that he was now referred to as Barrow as deference to his position as butler but as Tom continued with "this is my daughter Sybbie" Thomas for once looked thunderstruck as he noticed Sybbie.
"Miss Branson you are the image of your mother" he finally managed to say.
"Oh you knew my mother?"
"Quite well. We worked together at the village hospital during the Great War."
Sybbie beamed in delight. "I'm staying here for a couple of days maybe you'll have time to tell me some stories about that."
"I would be delighted to talk about that. Your mother was a truly wonderful person."
"High praise indeed" Isobel said as she smiled at Thomas. Then turning towards Sybbie said "I too worked at the hospital with your mother."
"In fact" Tom broke in "Isobel is the one that arranged for your mother to attend nursing school."
"Well I think there will be plenty of time to reminisce later" Mary said in her most Lady Mary manner "but I think it's time now for luncheon."
Tom stood back as the others walked across the marble hallway towards the dining room. It might not have begun with the humiliation he had suffered at the hand of that arse Larry Gray but at every meal in that grand room whether from his unfamiliarity with the myriad of tableware and glassware, the acerbic comments or the facial expressions of contempt or disdain he was reminded of how he was neither wanted nor accepted at that table.
Mary, sensing his trepidation, stood by as the others passed into the dining room. "I'm sorry about this but with the rain a picnic was out of the question."
He nodded his head at her words. "Of course."
As he entered the doorway he heard Sybbie say "still no pretty seascapes or landscapes" to which Mary leaned over and quietly said to him "apparently Sybbie made known on her prior visit she doesn't like our artwork" which caused Tom to laugh.
Looking at his daughter who stood by the sideboard he wondered how she would fare over the next several days for she had no inkling of the stiff and formal ways in a house like this. Would she be tempted to go down to the kitchens and make herself a cuppa or how many times would she call Barrow Thomas? And what when she arrived at Woodthrope Court the ancient estate of the Marquis where she would be living and working the next few months as a research assistant?
Mary had done her best to ensure that lunch would be comfortable for both Bransons therefore making it as informal as possible. To this end trays of food had been set on the sideboard so everyone could help themselves rather than Thomas hovering around serving them. After filling their plates they could take a seat at the small round table that replaced the large formal table.
"My favorite sandwiches" Sybbie clapped her hands in delight as she looked at a tray of open-faced shrimp sandwiches. "You remembered Grandmother Cora."
"It's rather like an indoor picnic" Isobel said remembering that phrase Cora's mother had used so long ago.
Conversation flowed freely with much of it focused on Sybbie although there were times Mary noticed Tom staring vacantly and she wondered what he was thinking.
"Caroline is coming home from university tomorrow. She's so excited to see you" Mary said.
Tom snickered. "Oh maybe you can ride Dibble."
"Ah!" Sybbie cooed in delight. "That was a wonderful day. I hate to say it's the only time I've ever ridden a horse."
"A pony" both Mary and Tom said as if in a chorus.
Sybbie gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Horse or pony it was a lovely day. Caroline and I had so much fun. I remember we had a real picnic and if I recall we overlooked a lake where we fed the ducks." She looked at Mary. "Maybe we could visit there again Aunt Mary and have a real picnic."
After what Mary deemed a pleasant two hours, she and Tom left Sybbie and the older women lingering over tea. "I would have preferred if we had gone off on our own for lunch as we always do" Mary said as she and Tom walked out of the house to the truck which was still parked in front of the Abbey. "But with this weather …" she shrugged. The rain, which had been fierce at times during their lunch slashing against the room's tall windows, had ended leaving the gravel drive riddled with puddles. She looked up at the sky which showed signs that the rain had spent itself out with patches of blue nestled among the gray clouds.
Tom remained silent while he took his place in the passenger seat of the old truck and Mary was seated behind the steering wheel. Before Mary started the engine she inquired if he had any particular place he'd like to visit.
"Just somewhere we can get out and walk. I feel like I've been sitting for hours and I've a long train ride ahead of me."
"You know you are welcomed to spend the night and take an early train in the morning."
His response came swiftly. "No"
The harshness of his voice caused her to turn and look at him but he stared straight ahead.
As she started the truck he turned and said "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. It's just that …" he voice stopped as he looked out the window towards the abbey. "When I came here as Sybil's husband … every meal in that room reminded me of how I didn't belong here, of how I wasn't wanted or accepted."
He looked at her. "I know it was so long ago but being in that room dredged up those miserable times."
"I don't know what to say Tom."
"You needn't say anything Mary. As I said it was a long time ago and both of us aren't quite the same as we were then." He gave a shrug of his shoulders before emitting a chuckle. "Really I don't see that Mary sitting in a truck let along driving one." His words caused her to laugh. "So drive this truck somewhere we can get out and walk."
She raised her brow and gave him a playful nudge. "That Mary would never accept orders from that Tom and certainly wouldn't drive him anywhere."
Usually they drove out to some far spot of the estate but today Mary surprised him by driving down the gravel drive and around the house, continuing on the drive as it passed under one of the brick arches in the wall that formed the Monks Garden and coming to a stop in front of a shed between the arch and one of the greenhouses. Outfitted with wellies from the shed, the pair walked around the perimeter of the Monks Garden. The air smelled fresh after the rain and Tom thought he caught whiffs of the sweet smell of early blooming roses.
They had already walked twice around the perimeter of the garden, talking of this and that as old friends do when Tom asked. "Where will George fit in now that he's the Earl?"
Mary took a deep breath. "Well until I die he only owns half the estate. For now he's content for me to keep managing the estate. He loves the work he's doing for the government, whatever it is" she shrugged her shoulders "and wants to continue doing that for a while."
"And you're content with that?" Tom asked.
"I am actually. I've pretty much been running it by myself for years now." She stopped walking and looked across the garden. "He's still pretty young and I think he just wants to live a bit before settling down here. It would be rather isolated for him here."
She looked at him. "You must see some of that with Sybbie?"
He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "I think Sybbie's been rather lost since she came back from working with the Americans up north. She doesn't seem to know what she wants to do. And I'm afraid that for the first time it seems to matter that she's so much older than my other children. She's living with my mother and I can't blame her for not wanting to share a bedroom with her 11 year old and nine year old sisters."
"I do wish Sybbie was coming with us" Tom said. "It will seem strange with us being in America and her here in England."
"As I said at lunch we'll meet her for some Sunday lunches and maybe she can come down for a weekend or two."
"I'm sure she'll like that Mary. Give her a bit of home … well you know what I mean."
"She's not a child anymore Tom. At her age I was thinking of my second marriage."
Tom stopped walking. "Please Mary do you want to give me a heart attack?"
Mary laughed. "She probably will get married one day Tom."
"Hopefully to a nice Irish lad and they'll have a grand house in Dublin where they can take care of me in my old age."
Mary looked at him sharply. "Now you should know better than most that fathers can't pick their daughter's husbands."
"How did we even get on this subject Mary?"
"So you'll be back from America by the end of August?"
"We're only staying three weeks. We'll be back by late July."
"Good" Mary said emphatically. "So you'll be able to come here in late August?"
"I guess so but why would I come here in August?"
"Ashley and I are getting married."
"What!" A big smile broke out on his face and he pulled her in for a hug. "That's wonderful Mary."
Her face beaming she nodded her head. "This time I'm sure. We've spent so much time together and he's interested in the estate and I think he'll be a great partner. So I won't really be running things by myself."
"But what about his military career?" Tom asked.
"He's retiring in July so that won't be a problem."
Tom couldn't remember when he had last seen Mary looking so happy.
"He's a good man … not that Henry wasn't but he just wasn't the right man for me. I've gotten to know Ashley so well these past couple of years so I know what kind of man he is. We're not rushing into anything."
"It will be a small affair here with just our immediate family, his children and mine and of course Mama and Isobel since they're here. But it would mean a lot to me if you're there, with Aoibhinn and Sybbie of course."
"Come on" Tom said as he tugged on Mary's arm and began pulling her towards the truck.
"Tom!" she stopped walking. "What-"
"This calls for a celebration. Do you think the Grantham Arms has champagne?"
"The Grantham Arms!" Mary shrieked. "I'm not announcing my upcoming wedding in the Grantham Arms."
"Well where else could we go?" he persisted. "Besides we don't have to make any announcement."
"And what would the village think of my drinking champagne in the middle of the afternoon with some strange man in the village pub?"
Tom rubbed his hand back and forth across his forehead.
"We'll go to the house. I'm sure we must have some champagne in the wine cellar. Mama and Isobel and Sybbie can join in the celebration!"
As they settled into the truck for the short ride up the drive Tom leaned over and nudged Mary's arm. "And just for the record Mary I resent being called come strange man."
"I didn't mean" she looked at him in alarm but saw the twinkle in his eyes and they both started laughing.
I was recently watching a British TV show and someone actually used the word codswollop but I'm bumfuzzle as to what show it was. If you'd like to read more about Sybil's penchant for words in The Crawley Girls, Chap 20 and 21.