A/N: Thank you pearlydewdrop and guests for the reviews of the last chapter.

"I wish I had a motor car to have driven you home" Tom said as he and his sister Fi (short for Fionnoula) walked along the cracked pavements of their worn neighborhood. "It seems so strange after driving a motor car for so many years to be without one."

"It's not far Tom and I've done it plenty of times on my own" she replied.

Tom looked at the wriggling infant in her arms and then at his two year old niece who he held in his arms as she contentedly played with the buttons on this jacket. "Wouldn't it be easier if you had a pram?"

"I have one but one of the wheels broke."

"If Angus can't fix it certainly Eoghan or Sean could." At Tom's mention of her husband Fi looked down at the ground. "Angus is so busy and since Eoghan's moved out towards Malahide he pretty much only comes around on Sundays and Sean" Fi slightly shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders. "One never knows with Sean's comings and goings."

Only little more than a year younger than him, Fi and Tom had always been close growing up. He was the brother she always relied on and turned to whether for help or just conversation. He was dismayed when he found out she was going out with Angus O'Leary who Tom considered dull and plodding and certainly not worthy of his lively and his lovely sister. But he had come back to Dublin for her wedding and had walked her down the aisle despite his misgivings of the union. "Fi is everything alright between you and Angus?"

"Why would you ask that Tom?" she asked sounding rather indignant.

"He hasn't come with you to Ma's."

Fi stopped walking and looked away. Tom reached out and touched her arm. "Fi" he said softly.

Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply. "He … he" her voice wasn't much more than a whisper "he doesn't want to meet Sybil."

"What? Why?"

"Oh Tom he blames the British for his brother's death. I've tried talking to him telling him he can't blame Sybil but he says as she's the daughter of a Lord she's part of the British government."


Tom returned to his mother's house carrying a pram. He was surprised to see his mother sitting alone in the sitting room. Upon seeing the pram, her eyes widened and she spilt a bit of her tea. "Don't tell me you have a need for!"

Tom chuckled. "As if half the women you know didn't have need of one within a month or two of their wedding."

"Tom!" she said as she stood up. "I knew-"

Quickly setting the pram down, he raised his hand. "It's Fi's and the wheel needs fixing."

Sighing in relief Nora sat back down on the sofa. "And just what did you know" Tom asked only now the laughter was gone from both his face and his voice.

His mother shook her head and waved her arm. "Nothing."

"Ma Sybil and I are marrying because we love each other and there is no other reason."

Her face blushing in embarrassment, Nora looked down at her lap as she took a deep drink of her tea. The uncomfortable silence was broken by

shrieks of laughter coming from the kitchen.

"What could those two possibly find so funny in doing the dishes?" Nora asked as she again set her tea cup on the small end table. It was a rare treat for Nora having someone else doing all the clean up after a family meal.

"It's wonderful how Ciara and Sybil have bonded." The pride in Tom's voice was evident. "How Ciara has so easily accepted Sybil."

"I gather Fi told you about Angus."

Tom nodded his head.

"I'm sorry Tom but you're going to find plenty around here that think like Angus. You've already seen that in hunting for a place to live and with Sybil getting a job. It's why I wanted you to reconsider coming here."

"A pair of fools. That's what you wrote." Nora felt Tom's severe gaze as he spoke to her.

"I just … oh Tom I just wanted you to …" she stood up and walked towards him "to think hard about coming here." She looked towards the kitchen. "Sybil is a lovely girl and I can see why you've fallen for her. I do Tom I really do. But I think it might have been better for the pair of ya to stay in England."

Tom took a few paces in the small room. "What you think his lordship would have let me keep my job and have his daughter move into the chauffeur's cottage? Or do you think we should have ignored our feelings for each other?"

Nora shook her head. "I'm saying that you could have looked for other work in England. Maybe go work with Kiernan in Liverpool where I'm sure Sybil could have found a nursing job."

"I don't want to stay a chauffeur or a mechanic Ma. I want to be a journalist and this is my chance."

She reached out to him to hug him. "I just want you and her to be happy."

Tom wrapped his arms around his mother. "We will be Ma."


Sybil stood at the sitting room window in the Branson house watching Tom and his sister Ciara dodge rain puddles as they hurried down the narrow street towards the tram station. Oh how she wished she was with them hurrying off to work but despite her best efforts she had so far failed to elicit any interest from the hospitals she had visited.

Deeply sighing, she let the starched white lace curtain fall back into place shutting out the view of the street. She had been in Dublin almost three weeks now, 19 days to be exact but on mornings like this it felt more like 19 weeks. Not that she regretted for one moment her decision to come here or to marry Tom but she felt as if she hadn't made any progress in the time she'd been here. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be for them to find a flat and for her to find a nursing job and as someone who had never really known rejection in her life that was an unexpected and difficult lesson.

She turned and looked around the sitting room with its deep beige painted walls and muted floral cushioned sofa and matching lounge chair. She guessed that at one time the floral fabric had been quite vibrant with yellows and greens and browns but had faded with time to dullness. A wooden rocking chair whose red cushion seat was the only spot of vivid color in this otherwise sober room took up one corner of the room. As with the rest of the house, this room was clean and tidy and there was a lingering scent of lemon from the freshly polished coffee table and small end stand.

She walked over to the mantle that hung above the coal grate giving an impression of a fireplace. Other than a wooden cross above the sofa there were no fixtures on the walls, no paintings or mirrors, but the mantle did hold several framed photographs. Sybil glanced at a photograph that was taken at Fi's (luckily the family called her this because Sybil couldn't pronounce her actual name) wedding with the radiant bride surrounded by her siblings. Next to that was a photograph of Tom dressed in his Downton chauffeur uniform and Sybil recalled he had told her how proud his mother had been of him. This photograph must have been taken in the first year or two that Tom was at Downton for he looked so young. Sybil smiled as she touched the photograph thinking that after all those years of seeing him in that green uniform how unfamiliar it seemed now.

At the other end of the mantle there was a photograph of a man that Sybil thought must be Tom's father. With his dark hair and mustache, his slim build, he bore little resemblance to Tom. Although he looked rather stiff and formal, as if this was the first time he'd sat for a photograph there was still a hint of a smile on his face.

"That's my Seamus" Mrs. Branson's voice surprised Sybil for she hadn't heard her come into the room.

"He's quite handsome" Sybil stated.

"Aye he was" came Mrs. Branson's reply as she came and stood beside Sybil. She lifted the photograph off the mantle, her fingers caressing his shoulder. "He had this most wonderful voice, deep and lyrical and I …" her voice faded as she looked at the photograph.

Sybil was surprised by her future mother-in-law's unexpected show of sentimentality. It wasn't a quality that Sybil had considered for in the short time she'd been here Nora Branson had seemed so straight forward and even a bit blunt at times.

Quickly Mrs. Branson set the photograph back on the mantle and looked at her future daughter-in-law. "I thought today I'd teach you how to make soda bread. No sense spending money at the bakery on something you can easily make at home." Left unspoken was the thought that at least for most of us it was easy.

Sybil, stifling a chuckle for just like that gone was any sentimentalism, nodded her head.

"Good" said Mrs. Branson, heading towards the kitchen, thinking that with some bread the girl could add some meat and cheese and maybe a pickled vegetable or two and make Tom a decent meal.

Mrs. Branson wasn't sure if she was amused or gratified that Sybil took out paper and pen to carefully write down her instructions. Her girls had learned to cook and bake by watching and helping her in the kitchen just as she had done with her own mother, there had been no need to write down step by step instructions as Sybil was doing. Mrs. Branson sighed, at least the girl was willing and eager to learn.

Sybil was just pouring the batter into the pan when there was a loud knock on the front door.

She was surprised when Mrs. Branson came back to the kitchen with a pale pink envelope in her hand. As she held it out to Sybil she said "the man said he'd wait for your reply."

"Maybe it's" Sybil began at she reached for the envelope but her hopes that there had been a change of heart at one of the hospitals she had applied to quickly vanished as she read the elegantly written Lady Sybil Crawley across the front of the envelope. At none of the hospitals had she used her title for she knew her English accent might be an impediment but her title would definitely be one.

As she looked at the envelope she couldn't imagine who would write to her and her puzzlement only grew as she lifted the matching pink stationary out of the envelope and immediately searched for the signature at the bottom of the hand written note. Helen Lovesly O'Hanrahan.

"Oh!" then looking at Nora said "It's from a childhood friend, our grandmothers were or I guess I should say are good friends. That's my grandmother in New York" she added for Mrs. Branson's benefit.

After swiftly reading the short note Sybil looked puzzled. "Helen is now living here in Dublin and wants me to come to her house for lunch tomorrow. She says it would be wonderful to see me after all these years and writes that there's something she may be able to help me with and something I could possibly help her with." Sybil shook her head. "Gosh I think the last time I saw her we were about eleven or twelve. I can't imagine what she could be talking about. What could I possibly help her with or her with me?