I hadn't realized how long it's been since I updated this story. We've had a time jump but I've tried to cover what's happened since Tom's last visit. I think you'll be surprised by the appearance of a character that's been barely mentioned before. Read and hopefully enjoy and reviews would be welcomed.

April 1954

Looking at the Downton postmark on the letter he held in his hands Tom shook his head. Since the end of the war it seemed every year around this time he received a letter from Mary asking if he planned to visit Downton. Until the war his visits had been fairly frequent but since then … he took a deep breath. It wasn't that he didn't think of Sybil for even now, all these years later, on their anniversary he'd still visit the church where they were married lighting a candle for her and spending some quiet time thinking of their time together and if Sybbie was with him they'd go have tea in her honor.

He'd last been to Downton not for his anniversary but the sad occasion of Cora's funeral and that had been … he sighed trying to remember … almost four years now.

Taking the letter, and a mug of tea, he settled into one of the comfortable wicker chairs in the garden. Although it was an unusually warm and sunny day for April his heavy jumper still felt good as the slight breeze coming from the Irish Sea held a bit of chill. He took a few minutes before opening the letter to take a few sips of his tea while staring beyond the roof tops below him to the Irish Sea. A couple of small boats floated in the dark water which here and there sparkled in the sun's rays. It was a view he never tired of and he hoped he'd spend his final days here looking out at that view. Finally setting the tea mug down on the small crate that passed for a table, he opened his letter and began reading and as he read the second page his eyes widened in surprise.

The wedding will be a very small affair with just intimate family and a few close friends of George and Dina, probably only 30 people in total. It's not the type of wedding I think befitting the Earl of Grantham but George and Dina are quite adamant about the arrangements.

Hopefully it would be convenient for you to stop by here on your way home from your holiday in Paris to attend.

May 1954

As the Night Ferry began its journey from the Gare du Nord in Paris Tom and Aoibhinn sat in the bar car and with a glass of champagne they toasted farewell to their wonderful week in Paris as the lights of the city slowly faded as the train made its way north towards the English Channel. They were well into sleep, half way across the English Channel, when a light rain started falling. By the time they arrived at Dover the rain had become heavier, slashing at the windows of the train, obscuring any view of the south English countryside. Tom swore it relented a bit as they arrived at London Victoria station but it wasn't until they approached Downton that the rain slackened to a drizzle. As their train slowly came to a halt Tom was surprised to see his nephew Billy standing on the station platform.

"I hope your weather in Paris was better than this" Billy said by way of greeting as Tom helped Aoibhinn on to the platform from the train compartment.

"It was wonderful" Aoihbinn gushed as she hugged Billy and kissed his cheek. "The weather was perfect for walking around that beautiful city."

"Aye." Tom grinned. "How did you know we would be on this train or are you here for someone else?"

"I asked the station manager what would be the likely train arrival for someone who took the Night Ferry from Paris." Billy broadly grinned. "I'm getting good at this type of thing Uncle Tom."

Tom narrowed his eyes as he looked at his nephew. Tall and solidly built with a head of brown wavy hair and a sly grin Billy looked much like his grandfather Branson. There had been a time when Billy's mother, Tom's sister, feared her son would end up like his errant father but under Tom's tutelage the wayward lad had settled down. Not one for books he barely managed to finish school with unremarkable grades while his true passion had been motor cars. By the age of eighteen Tom thought Billy was as good of a mechanic as himself yet Billy hadn't confined himself to only working with motor cars for he enjoyed tinkering with anything mechanical.

"So working as the-" Tom frowned as he tried to remember Billy's exact title.

"George calls it Estate Engineer" Billy finished for his uncle. Then chuckling added "although I think Lady Mary would refer to me as the handyman." He leaned over and picked up two of their three suitcases. "But let's continue this conversation sitting around a warm kitchen table. Moya has a fine stew simmering on the stove. Thought you might like some good Irish food after a week of French cooking."

That the Estate Engineer, Tom secretly chuckled at that title, lived in Crawley House was a shock. "This is where you're living?"

"Hard to believe I ended up living in a place like this" Billy said as he parked the motor car in front of the house.

"It's lovely" Aoibhinn commented while an incredulous Tom once again murmured "I can't believe this is where you're living."

"It had been sitting here empty since the Army left so George offered it to me. Moya likes being in the village and it's still easy for me to get to the big house pretty quickly."

"But we could have walked here from the station."

Billy laughed. "Really Uncle Tom? In this rain with all those suitcases?" He looked at Aoibhinn. "How long were you gone to Paris?"

Tom smirked at Aoibhinn while she blithely ignored him. "I guess I did do a bit shopping."

"A bit?" Tom raised his brow before looking at Billy "we had to buy another suitcase just to bring it all home. Probably a good thing we came back by train rather than the aeroplane for they'd have charged us another fare for the luggage" he teased.

"Oh!" Billy exclaimed. "I wanna hear all about the aeroplane ride over to France."

"Billy!" His wife Moya stood at the open front door. "Are ya gonna sit in the motor all day?"

As Moya warmly greeted Aoibhinn and then the two women disappeared into the foyer of Crawley House, Billy stopped on the walk and turned towards his uncle. His jocularity replaced by an unexpected seriousness. "Who would have thought that long ago camping trip when you took me and George to the Wicklow Mountains would have led to this" Billy swept his arm across in front of him. "I don't think I've ever probably thanked you Uncle Tom."

"You have lad." He nodded his head towards the house "by becoming all this." Tom reached out and patted Billy on the shoulder. Then grinning he said "but I think George had a mighty big role in this."

By late afternoon the drizzle had turned into a soft constant rain so Billy drove them up to the Abbey for tea. Tom expected some of the wedding party to be in attendance but it was only Mary, Ashley and George sitting in the library. It was warm embraces and soft kisses for the ladies and firm handshakes and pats on the shoulders for the men as they exchanged greetings all around before they settled down among the various sofas and chairs with hands full of plates of finger sandwiches and cups of tea. It wasn't long before the general chatter among them evolved into more intimate chats between two or three as they stood to refill plates or cups.

"It sounds like you had a wonderful time in Paris" Mary said as she came to stand by Tom.

"I feel like it was my first real holiday" Tom replied. "I mean with no children to look after so Aoibhinn and I could do whatever we wanted at our own pace. And it is truly a beautiful city that just begs you to wander down cobblestone streets or stroll along the Seine admiring the views or spending hours exploring the many book stalls that line the walk.

He grinned "only problem I see with the place was no where to get a decent pint."

Mary narrowed her eyes giving him that most familiar Lady Mary look. "A pint! You were in the land of the best wines in the world and you wanted a pint!"

Tom laughed as he shrugged his shoulders "what can I say Mary. To us Irish there's nothing better than a good pint."

Later Tom seeing George standing apart from the others staring out one of the tall windows set his cup down on the table and walked over to join his nephew. "So are you ready for tomorrow?"

George smiled broadly. "I am Uncle Tom. I am. I know Mama thinks we should have done this sooner but I wanted to be sure."

"Nothing wrong with that son" Tom answered. "Better to be sure than rush into something."

George chuckled. "I think some would say dating for gosh three or is it four years sounds like I might have had cold feet." Then turning towards the window he became serious. "We've, that is Dina and I, have been friends for so long" he looked at Tom "I knew her back at university, what ten years ago, although then it was certainly just as friends. I'm not really sure when I fell in love with her but when I got this upcoming foreign assignment I couldn't imagine going without her … I knew I wanted her to come with me."

Tom put his hand on George's shoulder. "I'd say a friendship that develops into love is the best start for a marriage."

The next morning dawned bright and sunny and the air smelled clean and fresh as it does after a clearing rain. As Crawley House was located just across the village green from the church it only took Tom a couple of minutes to get there dodging three or four lorries as well as a few puddles here and there which were a reminder of the rain and drizzle that had lasted far into the night.

Although the flowers were beginning to fade, their blooms drooping, Tom couldn't help but smile upon seeing them for it meant that Mary had remembered to bring flowers here. Somehow it still seemed so important to him that Sybil's grave have flowers on the date of their anniversary even when he wasn't able to do so himself. He replaced those fading blooms with flowers that Moya had left for him just in case you go to the churchyard she had whispered as she gently patted his hand.

The ground was still too wet for him to kneel so Tom stood with his right hand on top of the seemingly always cold stone tomb. "When I came here last time" he softly said "I told you Sybbie was in love." He looked down and with his fingers slowly traced the etched beloved daughter, wife, mother.

"We're grandparents now Sybil" he whispered as his fingers rested on the word mother. His hair had begun to gray and there were lines around his eyes, sure signs of his aging, but he couldn't imagine Sybil old for in his imagination she'd always look as she did the day he married her. "We have a grandson, he's eight months old. He has dark curly hair like yours and bright blue eyes and when he smiles-" Tom closed his eyes thinking how much Sybil had missed.

When he opened his eyes he ran his hand gently over the words Sybil Cora Branson. "Your daughter's a fine young woman. She's so much like you love. There's not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for having her in my life."

The loud back-fire from a passing lorry made Tom look up and he noticed a woman moving towards him from the far end of the graveyard. It wasn't until she was almost upon him that he realized who it was.

"Hello Tom."

"Edith" he replied as she came to stand beside him. Attired in an expensive looking copper colored dress that suited her pale skin she looked like the rich aristocratic matron she was. What hair he could see under her wide brimmed straw hat was still reddish although he thought the color might have come from a bottle. This was only the second time he'd seen her since he left Downton with Cora's funeral being the first time.

"I was at Mama's grave when I noticed you standing here." She looked back towards the tall marble arch that connected the six inch high marble slabs that covered her parents' graves. "I think the marble work is quite fitting for Mama and Papa. I'm glad I've finally seen it."

"Oh! Was it just recently done" Tom asked.

"Oh no." She turned and looked at him. "I just haven't been here since Mama's funeral." Seeing Tom's surprise she added "I live so far away and with Mama gone-" her sight focused once again on her parents' graves. She gave a dismissive wave of her hand and with shade of defiance in her voice uttered "there's really no reason to come here."

Mary hadn't mentioned Edith in quite some time to him and from Edith's stance and comments it appeared Cora's death hadn't brought the two closer together.

With her right hand Edith reached out and touched the gray stone of Sybil's tomb. "I do still miss her … Sybil that is. It's hard to believe she's been gone so long. She left such a void in my life … in all our lives Mama, Papa, Granny, Mary. I thought that maybe with her gone Mary and I would become closer but I realized Sybil was the one that held us together and without her-" Edith shook her head and wiped away a tear from her cheek.

Tom lowered his head and tapped his hat against his knee. Noticing his obvious discomfort Edith sought to change the direction of the conversation. "I'm glad you were able to come for George's wedding. I am surprised though that you're staying at Crawley House rather than up at the house."

"I … well…" Tom stumbled, he didn't really want to discuss his aversion to staying overnight at the Abbey. "Speaking of Crawley House why don't we go there where we can sit down and have a cup of tea."

As they walked in silence the short distance to Crawley House, Tom wondered what had possessed him ask her to come there for they had never been close. As they approached the entrance gate Edith stopped as she looked carefully at the brick house hidden behind the tall stone fence. "I can't remember the last time I was here. It had to be before the war when Isobel was still living here."

Walking towards the front door Tom said "My nephew lives here now."

"Ah" Edith murmured "the irrepressible Billy. I haven't met him but George has talked so much about him I feel as if I know him."

The house seemed so quiet. "I guess Moya and Aoibhinn are still with Ashley. They're doing the flowers for the wedding. Guess Moya took her two little boys with them to the greenhouses."

Edith sat at the kitchen table while Tom set the kettle on to boil. "There's some delicious Victoria Sponge cake Moya made."

"Just tea will be fine Tom. The drive down here was tiring and I slept in this morning so I had a rather late breakfast."

Tom found it strange to be entertaining Edith and he still hadn't figured out why he had invited her to Crawley House. In his days as the Downton chauffeur he had found her almost as cold and haughty as Mary and even more prickly. His only close contact with her had been teaching her to drive and that hadn't been a pleasant experience. Maybe it had been the emotion she had shown at Sybil's grave. Despite whatever Mary and Edith felt for each other there was no doubt in Tom's mind that both had dearly loved their baby sister.

With their tea ready, Tom led Edith into front parlor with its sunny yellow walls and tall windows that opened out into the front garden. Settled into one end of the tufted dark red sofa Edith looked around the room. "This looks nothing like how I remember it."

"I don't think that stuffy Victorian look suited Billy and his family" an amused Tom answered.

Edith laughed. "I don't think it suits anyone any more. We still of course have some formal rooms at Brancaster but the rooms we really live in I've brought them up to date with modern furniture and softer colors."

"So how is life at Brancaster?"

"Busy. Being the Marchioness of Hexham one has responsibilities and expectations to meet but I do get tired of opening the church fetes or attending charity luncheons or-" she shrugged her shoulders "but enough about that."

She took a sip of her tea and then set her cup down on the small coffee table. "Whenever I came to visit Mama and Papa Isobel would always ask me to come here for tea or lunch. I think she just wanted to hear about George. Since Brancaster was fairly close to his university, at least much closer than Downton, and then afterwards when he was working for the war office in Edinburgh he was still close so he'd often come to us for holidays or when he had a day or two off."

"He's a fine lad" Tom offered.

"Yes he is." Edith nodded her head in agreement. "He reminds me so much of Matthew."

Tom nodded his head in agreement. "I've often thought that. Sybbie's the same, she's so like her mother. It's funny how children who never really knew their parent can be so much like them."

Edith quickly looked down at her tea cup as she wondered if Tom knew the truth about Marigold. Would Mary have told him?

By nine the chill of the night air had driven what was left of the wedding party indoors. Some guests, who needed to get back to London that night, had already left for the Downton railway station to take the evening train. Several others, including Henry, who had driven down from London by motor car had also left. Tom had been rather surprised that Henry had come to the wedding until Mary explained that George considered Henry his Papa as he was the only father he knew. To his credit Henry had maintained that relationship with George even after the divorce.

Someone had set up a record player in the grand salon and that staid room was now the scene of a laughing mob doing the bunny hop. As the line circling around the room approached Tom he feared Sybbie would insist on drawing him into the dancing and so he opened the nearest door and quickly stumbled into the library drawing the door firmly shut behind him.

He stood for a moment, his back against the heavy wooden door, its bulk muffling the music and laughter of the grand salon. No one had pulled the drapes shut allowing the moonlight to filter through the tall windows. Silvery strands of moonlight stretched across the room making alternating paths of light and darkness. The burning embers from a small fire in the fireplace cast a red glow and gave the room a comfortable warmth. This had always been his favorite room in the house, the only room he had truly been comfortable in, and he turned his head slightly towards the wall of books barely visible in the shadows. He started to take a step forward when hearing what sounded like the clinking of ice in a glass made him sharply turn his head in the other direction.

Halfway across the room Mary sat in a chair, her face illuminated by the moonlight. She tipped her glass in his direction, a sly smile on her face. "I was wondering if you'd ever see me."

Tom started walking towards her, his face looking around the room as if expecting to see others. "Why ever are you sitting in here alone in the dark?"

"I might ask you why you're here?" she countered.

"I feared I'd be pulled into a rather raucous conga line."

She laughed. "I thought that was your sort of thing. As I recall at Sybbie's wedding you were leading a conga line in the wee hours of the night."

"Well I'm older now."

"Tom that was only three years ago."

"Well I'm trying to act a bit more mature. I am a grandfather now you know." He sat down in the chair across from her and winked. "While it's true the library door offered me an escape I was actually looking for you."

"Oh?"

"Well Edith and the bride's mother are sitting together in the salon looking stiff and stern as if they're just waiting for an excuse to break up the party. Pity the lad whose hand mistakenly touches … well you can imagine. The bride's aunt is with them but she fell out of her chair and so now they have her propped up in one of the deep-seated lounge chairs which would be impossible to fall out of and I swear I heard a snore or two."

Mary couldn't help but snicker.

"Our spouses and Bertie are in the drawing room deep in conversation. I heard the words fleshy fruits and was tempted to sit down but before I could do so they were throwing out such words as cross-pollination and drip irrigation and I thought I must have been mistaken about fleshy fruits."

This time Mary's snicker turned into laughter. "Seriously Tom I can't imagine Bertie in any titillating conversation. The man is pleasant but as dull as dishwater." She glared at him. "Need I remind you he is married to Edith."

Tom sighed heavily. "Now Mary I rather like him. He helped us set up the tent and tables for the wedding reception and then afterwards we retired to the Grantham Arms for some refreshments and actually he can be quite fun." He sat down in the overstuffed armchair across from Mary. "But we're diverging from my question. Why are you sitting here alone in the dark?"

She set her glass down on a small side table. "I just wanted a few minutes of quietness." She stood up and walked over to the sideboard that held a drinks tray. "Whiskey … cognac …" she turned to him.

"Ah a glass of whiskey sounds good" he replied. "I can't quite believe people go for those fancied up concoctions."

"You mean cocktails?"

"Whoever thought whiskey or gin needed" he shook his head "of all things fruit juice. It's a sacrilege!"

"So no conga line, no Tom Collins or Sidecars. And here I thought you were a modern man." She handed him a crystal tumbler. "No water no ice just whiskey."

He took a sip. "Ah a taste of heaven." Contented, he leaned back and patted the chair arm. "I remember the first time I came into this room. It was my second day as the chauffeur and Carson brought me here to meet your father and I saw all these books. I couldn't believe when he said I was free to read them."

"You've probably read more of these books than anyone else which I guess is a sad commentary on the rest of us." Mary looked down at her glass.

"I heard some light refreshments are going to be offered in the dining room. Shouldn't you be there to supervise?"

"Well" Mary took a sip of her drink. "As of 4:30 this afternoon Dina became the Countess of Grantham and as-."

"So you're now the Dowager Countess" Tom laughed.

Mary stiffened and said frostily "actually as I was never the Countess of Grantham I am not the Dowager Countess." She then stood up and walked to the drinks tray. After refilling her glass she set the whiskey bottle down so hard Tom was surprised it didn't shatter. He watched as she most unlady-like gulped half the drink.

"Mary" he said softly as he came to stand beside her. He lightly ran his hand along her arm. "I didn't mean to offend you."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Tom. I … I" she turned to look into his eyes. The moonlight fell on her accenting the paleness of her face and the darkness of her eyes. "It's just that Edith has rather rubbed it in my face that Dina is now the Countess, a title I never had, and as such is in charge of Downton."

"But surely" he began "you still own half of Downton."

"I own half of the estate but when Papa died George got the title and the house goes with the title."

"So how is this going to work with George and Dina going to Hong Kong?"

"For now nothing's really changing. I'll still live here and run the estate as I've been doing all these years. For any major issue of course I'll consult with George but he's said he's happy with the way I've been running things."

Leaving her drink on the table she walked to the fireplace and stood there rubbing her arms as if she was suddenly chilled but the few embers left provided little warmth. "All my life Tom I've wanted nothing but Downton. Not just the house but all of it. I thought it was my right but that's not how things are done here. In America I could have inherited but here" she shrugged her shoulders. "So many of these places have gone bankrupt or in to disrepair but since Matthew died I've done everything I could to be sure that there would be something valuable for George to inherit."

"And you've accomplished that Mary and you should be proud of yourself."

She looked at him and smiled.

"George knows what you've done and I think it's a credit to you that he feels comfortable enough to let you continue doing what you've been doing."

"Thank you for saying that Tom."

"Now Mary. It's been a wonderful day. The ceremony was lovely, the bride looked beautiful and George was beaming with happiness. The reception and dinner in the tent was delicious and fun although that quartet could have been a little livelier." She noted how in the moonlight his grin made him look as he did so many years ago as if time hadn't aged him. "I think it's time we rejoin the party. Maybe those light refreshments are in the dining room now."

"Seriously Tom how can you be hungry?"

"While you were in here drowning your sorrows I was kicking up quite a storm on the dance floor."

Her hand was on the door knob but before she could open the door Tom put his hand over hers. "By the way our spouses have been plotting for the four of us to take a holiday together. I heard the south of France, Rome, and Cairo mentioned."

"Golly!" Mary replied.