A/N: Thank you for the reviews of the last chapter. This is a continuation of that chapter.
Sybil leaned over and looked into the white wicker bassinet at the tiny figure swathed in a dark blue towel. Looking at the tiny hands balled into fists, her eyes closed tight, the mass of dark hair that contrasted to the soft pink skin, Sybil was still in awe that this angelic looking bundle was her daughter. Fighting her impulse to reach out her hand and gently stroke the that mass of dark hair, an act that might awaken the sleeping infant, Sybil contented herself with watching the gentle rise and fall of the blue towel as her daughter took soft breaths. Of course, Sybil mused, the little one wouldn't be quite so angelic looking in a little while when hunger caused her to wildly flail those arms and that soft pink skin became mottled as she frets and cries in an unexpected loudness that seems shocking for something so small.
Putting her feet up on the ottoman Sybil leaned back and sank into the overstuffed lounge chair, smiling as she thought how nice it was to finally be able to sit again in this most comfortable chair. As her belly had grown it had become harder and harder to get out of this chair without help and so she had taken to sitting on the sofa or one of the other chairs but none were as comfortable as this one.
After two days of sponge baths it had felt good to soak in the bath tub. The warm water had soothed her sore body and had almost lulled her into sleep as she leaned back against the tub's sloped end, her eyes closed and letting the warm water wash over her. Now freshly bathed, her skin smelling faintly of lilac, and clothed in a clean loose fitting cotton robe, she felt refreshed. She ran the brush through her damp hair still getting used to her short hair that now fell in waves to her chin. It had definitely been a wise move to cut her hair she idly thought.
The evening air that drifted into the sitting room through the open window was pleasantly cooler than the heat of the afternoon. From the kitchen came the faint murmurs of her mother-in-law and Meg as they bustled around the kitchen but it was the tantalizing aroma of roast chicken that brought a smile to Sybil's lips. Feeling content she closed her eyes and thought she shouldn't get too used to such pampering. She had almost drifted off to sleep when the gurgles of her daughter, lying in the bassinet beside lounge chair, had become soft cries.
"Oh little one hungry already" Sybil cooed as she bent over the bassinet and gently lifting her daughter before those soft cries turned in wails.
Tom silently stood in the small foyer of the flat marveling at the sight of his wife and daughter; it was a scene he didn't think he could ever tire of watching. He smiled as he watched Sybil, unaware of his presence, held a blue bundle close to her so that only the back of his daughter's head with its mop of dark hair was visible to him while Sybil's hand gently patted her back. Since that first day that he had seen Sybil, dressed in a pale blue suit that almost matched the color of her eyes, Tom thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. During those years at Downton he had seen her dressed in the finest of gowns and adorned with sparkling jewels yet dressed now in the simplest of attire, a shapeless cotton robe that fell just below her knees, he thought she had never looked more beautiful.
She looked radiant in the early evening light that filtered into the sitting room casting a warm glow on Sybil and the baby and Sybil's dark wavy hair gleamed in the light. He hadn't been happy when she had cut her long tresses but he would admit now that the shorter hair suited the modern and independent woman she had become.
It was Meg coming from the kitchen, her hands filled with two bowls that she set on the dining table, that spotted him and her greeting to him caused Sybil to become aware of his presence.
Her face nuzzled close to the baby she cooed "Daddy's home." She looked up at Tom and smiled. "Perfect timing. This one's just finished her dinner and judging from that wonderful aroma it's time for ours."
"And how has my little one been today" Tom called out as he crossed the room and came to stand beside Sybil where he began stroking his daughter's head.
"Little one!" Meg shook her head. "She's three days old don't you think she should have a name by now or are you two planning on calling her little one until she's old enough to name herself?"
Tom couldn't help but laugh at his cousin's earnest question.
"Maybe that's something we can discuss at the table" Mrs. Branson said as she set the pan of roasted chicken on the table and beckoned them all to take their places. But conversation lulled while plates were filled and the first few bites were taken.
"This tastes so good" Sybil offered between bites. "I can't believe I'm absolutely famished."
"Well eat up dear" Mrs. Branson replied. "You need to keep up your strength. Takes a lot of energy nursing a baby."
Mrs. Branson looked at her granddaughter contentedly sitting in Sybil's lap. "Would be nice though if we could actually call her something besides the baby or little one."
Tom snickered and Sybil gave a small shrug while her lips curved into a slight smile at his mother's directness. In many ways Fionnoula Branson reminded Sybil of her granny although while her mother-in-law was just as formidable she had none of Violet Crawley's acidness.
"We were so sure the baby was gonna be a boy we didn't concentrate as hard on girl names" Tom piped up.
"What name had you picked out for a boy?" Meg asked.
"Kevin Aidan after my grandfathers" Tom responded and as he did so he caught the wistful gleam in his mother eyes at the mention of her father's name.
"I may never have meet Aidan Branson but I have such fond memories of Grandpa Fearghail" Tom looked first at Meg who had never met her grandfather Kevin Fearghail and then at his mother. "I've told Sybil about my summers at the farm. Stuffing our mouths with wild berries as soon as we picked them. Fishing in the brook where it seemed us boys would end up in the water."
"But I think what I loved most was sitting around the fire and Grandpa telling us the ancient legends. He was such a great storyteller and he made those legends come alive. Finn mac Cumahl. Angus Og. The children of Lir."
Finnoula Branson started to laugh. "I think the only time you children were quiet, mesmerized actually, was when he'd tell those stories."
"I wish I could have met him" Meg quietly stated. "Although I do remember Grandma." She quieted as if deep in thought and then said "Well you could name the baby after your grandmothers" causing Tom to shake his head as he laughed.
Still chuckling he said "We had talked about that but Sybil can't quite pronounce Granuaile."
"Well that one is a tough one" Mrs. Branson remarked.
"Pronounce it!" Sybil exclaimed. "I can't even remember how to spell it. But I loved the story behind the name. It's what I want this little one-"
At the mention of little one Tom and his mother chuckled while Meg giggled. Sybil good humoredly responded with her own laugh before continuing. "I want this … little one" she boldly emphasized the words "to be a strong independent woman."
"Well Sybil what about your grandmothers' names" Meg stated then seeing how her remark caused Sybil to wince Meg quickly said "I'm sorry Sybil. I didn't mean to-".
"It's quite alright Meg." Sybil looked at Tom who leaned over to rub her shoulder. Taking a deep breath she continued. "Although I dare say both my grandmothers are quite strong women."
"I think your name is quite unusual Sybil. What is it from?" Meg asked in curiosity as she had never heard of the name before and also as a way to possibly change the direction of the conversation.
"It's from the ancient Greeks. Sybils were interpreters of the oracles and seers into the future."
"Golly! I thought my mother was a bit batty with the literary names."
Sybil raised her brow as if not quite understanding Meg to which Meg continued "My mother named us girls after characters from her favorite books … Meg, Emma, Jane, Alice ..." She stopped before naming all her sisters as if remembering something and then chuckling "Better than our neighbor who named hers after her favorite flowers. Rose … Poppy… Lily. Pity the poor one named Delphinium."
Delphinium did elicit groans and chuckles from those at the table.
"Although we ended up calling her Delphy."
Looking down at her daughter Sybil forcefully stated "Well my daughter is Irish and I want her to have an Irish name."
"But one easy to spell as well as pronounce" Meg gleefully added. "Let me think … there's always Nora or -" she tilted her head as if deep in thought.
"Aideen" Mrs. Branson quietly said. Looking at Tom then Sybil she added "it's the feminine version of Aidan."
"Aideen" Sybil softly repeated the name as she looked down at the little bundle in her arms. "Aideen"
"It means little fire" Mrs. Branson stated.
Sybil broadly smiled "As a combination of her parents I think this one will certainly be a ball of fire."
"There's not really a feminine version of Kevin but Keela sounds a bit like Kevin." Mrs. Branson looked at her granddaughter "and it means beautiful which this little one certainly is."
"Keela" Sybil repeated the name. "Keela" "What do you think Tom?"
"I like it. I like Aideen" he replied.
"Well she needs a first and a middle name Tom."
Tom looked at Sybil grinning. "So have we settled then … Keela Aideen or Aideen Keela?"
It had taken Sybil four tries but she was sure this time she had done it right. "Da dah" she proudly proclaimed as she slid one hand under Keela's back while the other cradled her neck. But her joy was crushed as she lifted Keela up from the table and the nappy slid right off.
"You must think me so stupid" a frustrated Sybil said as she gently laid Keela back on the table. "How can this be so hard?"
Sybil looked at her daughter calmly lying on the table. "Meg's does this so easily."
"Meg's had plenty of experience dear. Three younger siblings plus all those nieces and nephews of hers."
Mrs. Branson patted Sybil's hand. "It just takes some practice."
"At this rate she'll be ready for toilet training before …" Sybil groaned. "Toilet training! How will I ever master that?"
Mrs. Branson chuckled. "Let's just master this dear before even thinking about that."
Sybil set the beef pie on the small wooden kitchen table. Although Meg had gone to spend the evening at her parents' house she had made the pie before she left. "Well it won't be just the two of us again for a long time Tom. Even if we don't have any other children I expect Keela will be with us for at least the next 18 years."
"No … no … I just mean since Keela's birth with both Meg and my mother here it's just seemed … well …" the man who wrote for a living seemed lost for words.
"Your mother has been wonderful these past two weeks. It's surprising how much work there is taking care of a newborn." Sybil's face reddened thinking of her ignorance. "I've never been around a newborn before. I can't imagine how these past two weeks would have been without your mother and Meg."
"You don't mind if Meg stays on?"
Sybil shook her head. "I'm enjoying her being here. Not just for all the work she does but she's actually quite pleasurable company. And I think it's good for her too. It's quite wonderful how much she enjoys working with Fergus in the shop."
Tom smiled. "I'm glad it's working out for you and for her." Tom knew that opportunities for girls like Meg were so limited.
His smile quickly left as he looked down at his empty plate and Sybil knew that look, knew that he had something to say to her, something that she might not want to hear. But she wasn't going to coax it out of him, she'd wait for him to speak.
"More tea?" she asked as she stood but Tom reached out and grabbed her hand and nodded for her to sit back down all the while his eyes remained on her.
Once Sybil was seated again he began "that night Keela was born … when I was downstairs with Fergus" she nodded at him. "Some British soldiers came barreling in the shop looking for Dr. Byrne."
Sybil gave a grunt. "I know. Meg told me later. She was so frightened."
"Why would they think Dr. Bryne would be here treating some rebel?"
Sybil, swallowing hard, looked away from Tom.
"How are you involved?"
"I'm a nurse with experience treating war injuries Tom. Would you rather I be working for the British soldiers?" She looked at him defiantly.
"I don't want you involved at all Sybil" His harshness surprised her.
"This fight isn't just yours Tom. Just like you I want freedom for Ireland."
Tom grabbed her hand. "Sybil can't you see how dangerous that was? If they' had caught you they wouldn't have treated you lightly just because you're English. In fact they might have been even harsher."
"Would you rather those young lads have died Tom? Because without me or Dr. Bryne some of them that could have been saved would have died."
Tom turned away from her, fiddled with his tea cup. "I thought we had no secrets Sybil."
"Can you say you have no secrets from me?"