A/N: This has been a long time coming but I've written and discarded so many scenes for this chapter. I hope you like what I finally settled on. As always thanks for the reviews of the last chapter and I'd like to hear what you think about this one.

October 1920

"She seems a very happy and healthy baby" Dr. Bryne stated to a grateful Sybil as he finished examining Keela. Smiling as he lifted Keela up from his examining table he said to the infant "You're looking more and more like your beautiful mother."

"And how do you feel?" he asked as he handed the infant back to Sybil. Noting that Sybil didn't have that harried look so many of his other patients often had he added with a chuckle "You're looking quite well especially for a new mother. Eating well and sleeping-"

Sybil chuckled. "I'm eating quite well but as for sleeping …" she shrugged.

"She'll soon be sleeping through the night. Till then sleep when you can and get plenty of rest."

"I'm very lucky to have Meg" responded Sybil. "I'm embarrassed that she seems to know so much more about babies than I do."

"Yes well it's just a fact of life here that so many children help with their younger siblings."

"And Tom's been great too. I can't imagine my father ever changing a nappy!" Sybil turned her face away from Dr. Bryne and looked as if she suddenly found the eye chart on his office wall interesting.

Nervously, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can't imagine my mother ever changed a nappy either" she murmured more to herself than the good doctor although he had heard her. Sybil had always been reticent about herself so he only knew bits and parts of her background but he knew she came from a wealthy family that did not accept her marriage to the Irishman Tom Branson.

Watching Sybil tug Keela a little tighter to her chest and tenderly kiss the top of her head Dr. Bryne thought that Keela Branson would get more motherly attention than the infant Sybil had had.

Thinking a change in direction of the conversation was needed Dr. Bryne asked "I'm always shorthanded here have you thought about coming back to work for me?"

"Keela's so young yet and I'm a bit afraid of catching some germs or disease and bringing it home to her."

Nodding as if understanding the new mother's fear, Dr. Byrne said "You're the best nurse I've ever had for treating wounds and setting bones and sewing up cuts."

Sybil flashed him one of those genuine smiles that he thought deepened her beauty. "That's so wonderful to hear Doc."

She looked down at the floor. "Tom confronted me about those Army men searching for you the night Keela was born." Lifting her face to look at him she continued. "I told him about … about helping with … you know." Holding Keela Sybil stood up and paced a few steps. "Although … I … I didn't really go into details."

She stopped pacing. "It's all so strange isn't it?" Sybil said. "I mean the Great War was two defined armies facing each other on a battlefield but here it's … it's … look at us most of the time we all go on about our daily life, quietly resisting, refusing to shop in certain places or refusing to help the police, or like the railway drivers refusing to transport British troops, all of us pretty much ignoring British authority while the Dáil carries on a sorta shadow government."

"And yet …" she looked away "there's this violence … tit for tat shootings and reprisals … and so many ordinary citizens caught in the middle."

"Tom's afraid for me and now with Keela" she looked down at the baby in her arms and once again tenderly kissed the top of her head. "But it's going to get worse isn't it I mean with these Black and Tans."

"Going by last month's attack in Balbriggan I'm afraid so" Dr. Bryne replied.

"But my daughter is Irish and I want her to grow up in a free Ireland. I won't keep it a secret from Tom but if you get in a bind here or if there's someone that needs looking after at the safe rooms at Fergus' I'll try to help."

Sitting under the giant oak whose spreading branches were still thick with mostly green leaves showing only the faintest hints of reds and golds, Sybil leaned back against the bench and tilted her face towards the sky. Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath the only sound she heard was the faint rustling of leaves and although the morning rain was long gone, replaced by glorious sunshine, the air still held that crisp smell of freshness that only comes after a hard rain. Once upon a time in her life, gardens brimming with an array of colorful plants and the air filled with the sweet scent of roses or lilacs, fields and meadows dotted with shrubbery and grazing sheep and woods thick with trees and teeming with deer and small game had been her world. Although she loved her city life, there were times when she longed to run barefoot on freshly mown grass or sit in the shade of an old oak tree, her back resting against its rough bark, and read a book.

"Sybil"

Sybil opened her eyes as Meg, sitting next to her on the park bench, asked "where have you drifted off to?"

It had been months since she and Tom had taken their Sunday walks which had once been their routine on lazy Sunday afternoons. Sometimes they'd walk along the river or other times they explored the many garden squares lined with fine Georgian mansions that reminded Sybil of London. Sometimes their walks were interrupted by drizzles or downpours and they'd pop into the closest pub and enjoy a pint. There was of course Trinity College with its stately buildings amid plenty of open spaces and she and Tom would talk about how their child might one day be a student there. But her favorite walks had been those in one of Dublin's fine parks, respites from the crowded streets with their gardens and fountains and where many a lazy afternoon the two had spent in the sunshine snuggled on a blanket talking about their hopes and plans for the future.

"Sybbbbilll"

Sybil opened her eyes as Meg, sitting next to her on the park bench, asked "where have you drifted off to?"

In response, Sybil shrugged her shoulders and emitted a light laugh. "It just seems so long since I've . . ." she stopped as she realized a young woman was standing in front of them.

Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Sybil smiled at Tom and Meg's cousin Kate whom she had met two, maybe three times, at some family gatherings. The three cousins were related by way of their mothers who were sisters and Sybil thought Kate must take after her father's side of the family because she bore no resemblance to either Tom or Meg. Quite tall, she was slim with lively brown eyes and hair a rich brown that glinted highlights of red in the bright sunshine and across her cheeks were a scattering of freckles.

Now that Sybil was aware of her presence, Kate also smiled but her tone of voice dripped with annoyance. "Sorry I'm late but just as I was ready to leave the Major decided he needed me to iron a shirt which of course had a button missing so I had to…" She stopped and took a breath and then giving a dismissive wave of her arm continued in a much lighter tone. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about such things and anyway-"

"Anyway you're here now" a delighted Meg exclaimed.

"And we're glad you are" Sybil chimed in causing all three of them to laugh.

"So this is the newest Branson" Kate cooed as she bent to look at Keela happily lying in her pram, her body hidden underneath a fuzzy blue and white blanket while a soft white bonnet loosely covered her head leaving plenty of dark hair visible . "You look like your Ma" Kate continued as she stroked the side of Keela's head. "Yes, you're a beauty just like your Ma." Then looking up at Sybil, Kate said "I imagine Tom is just over the moon."

A beaming Sybil nodded her head. "He's so wonderful with her. He loves to-"

"Can we continue this conversation while we eat" Meg injected. "I'm hungry!"

Meg led the way as Sybil, pushing the bulky pram, walked along side Kate as they search for a dry spot to spread out their large woolen blanket. They opted for a spot in the open where they could bask in the warmth of the sunshine. It was unexpectedly warm for early October although the early morning rain had left just enough coolness that the three kept on their light wool jumpers. Even Keela, lying on her back on the blanket, her own fuzzy blanket lightly draped over her long cotton dress, seemed to relish the fresh air and sunshine and she happily flailed her arms and legs as her mother, Meg and Kate ate and talked and laughed as if they were school girls on holiday.

"I can't remember the last time I had a picnic" a contented Kate exclaimed as she finished the last of her ham and cheese tart. "What a wonderful way to spend my afternoon off."

At Kate's mention of her afternoon off Sybil slightly reddened, ashamed that she had never thought of how little time the Downton servants had off, or even worse, how much time the servants worked, until she had struck up her friendship with Tom.

"I don't think I could work for a British officer" Meg said as the conversation had turned to Kate's work.

Kate couldn't confide to her cousin the real reason for taking a job as a housemaid in the household of a British officer, couldn't say to her cousin I'm not doing it because I want to but because it's for the cause. I have a role to play in the fight for our independence.

"Well a job is a job" Kate countered. "At least she's very nice. Much too nice for him I think. He treats her horribly and I think she's very lonely. I don't know why she married him." Then turning towards Sybil she said "She's English and a Lady like you. Actually now that I think about it Lady Victoria reminds me quite a bit of you Sybil."

"Me?" Sybil sounded a bit stunned.

Kate shook her head. "I don't mean the part about her marriage, I mean you'd never guess that she's an aristocrat. Treats us quite nice she does and she's very kind. She's curious about Ireland and I get the feeling that she thinks Ireland should be independent. I think she's probably about your age."

"Lady Victoria" Sybil repeated the name. She knew a Lady Victoria, in fact since childhood had been close friends with a Lady Victoria.

"Do you know her maiden name or where in England she's from?" Sybil asked but Kate shook her head no.

Leaning back on her elbows, Kate looked up at the sky which was still cloud free. "She's talked about how she misses horse riding and that she had three horses and they had even won some ribbons for whatever it is that horses do." The last, said with a dismissive wave of her hand, made Sybil silently chuckle. She had never been enamored with riding as Mary had been but she had enjoyed roaming around the estate and the sense of freedom she felt as the wind whipped her face as she pressed her horse to gallop ever faster.

"Apparently two of her brothers were killed in the war and she was very close to them. Even has a couple of photographs of them on her dresser but none" Kate seemed to smirk "of her husband. Not even any photographs of her wedding."

Brothers killed during the war. Could Kate's Lady Victoria be her childhood friend. Could this Lady Victoria actually be Victoria Bellasis wondered Sybil.

"It's just as beautiful as I remember it" Sybil delightedly commented as she and Tom stood next to the motor car looking out at the panoramic view from the top of Summit Hill. Just as she remembered off to their right the Summit's rugged heathland, thickly covered in gorse, cascaded far out into the sea with the final cliff capped with a squat sturdy looking lighthouse and beyond it the Irish Sea. Sybil tied her scarf a bit tighter around her head and pulled up the collar of her jacket to ward off the chill of the brisk wind which caused the gorse to ripple and the sea waves to crash fiercely against far off rocky cliffs sending sprays of water three or four feet into the air.

Looking in the other direction towards Howth's picturesque harbor the sea looked much calmer as the array of brightly painted fishing boats bobbed gently up and down inside the U shaped shelter formed by the two piers that jutted out into the sea. It seemed as if all the boats had sought the security of the harbor for no boats were visible in the sea beyond the lighthouse at the edge of the pier. In the distance the rocky outcropping called Ireland's Eye rose up from the sea with its gray rocks a sharp contrast to the dark blue of the cloudless sky and the even deeper darkness of the sea.

It was the first time Sybil and Tom had ventured to Howth since that wonderful trip back in April. Only this time was no overnight but just a leisurely Sunday afternoon jaunt away from the city. Standing behind Sybil, Tom wrapped his arms around her and snuggled his head against her neck. "Good thing we're not having a picnic today. It's much too cool and windy here today" he cooed into her ear before beginning to gently kiss her ear lobe, then her neck causing her scarf to come undone.

"Tom!" Sybil whined as the wind caught her scarf and it went tumbling across the gorse. "My scarf!" Jabbing her elbow into his chest she barked "Go get it."

He looked at the quickly moving scarf and then at his wife before wisely deciding to do as his wife bid and went galloping after the errant scarf which luckily for him finally got tangled in some gorse. Plucking the scarf, a very delicate matter in the prickly gorse, he held it aloft in victory as he turned towards Sybil; however, she was nowhere to be seen. Chugging back up the hill he heard the wails of his infant daughter before he saw their borrowed black motor car.

As he approached the motor car, the wails stopped and he found Sybil seated in the motor car with Keela cradled on her lap.

"Wet nappy or hunger?" Tom asked as he approached them. Her gaze still on Keela, each of her hands holding one of the infant's much smaller ones, Sybil replied "Neither." She cooed something Tom couldn't quite distinguish before looking up at him. "I think she was just feeling left out alone in her little box here in the motor car.

"I think fish and chips on the pier would be just fine Tom" Sybil said as Tom settled the motor car into a parking space in front of The Sea House, the fine restaurant they had eaten at last April.

"Nonsense" he responded. "I think we can do better than sitting on a bench on the pier eating fish and chips. After all" he looked over at his wife, a sly grin on his face "now that I'm also writing for the Manchester Guardian I do have a bit extra money."

Sybil smiled back him feeling so proud that his journalistic work was now recognized by an established British newspaper. Tom had submitted two articles to the Guardian in the hopes of spreading the word of what was actually happening in Ireland to the larger British public. To their surprise, not only had the paper printed those articles but Tom was commissioned to submit future articles.

Just past two o'clock whatever luncheon crowd there had been was gone for the low ceilinged dining room was almost empty allowing Tom and Sybil to sit in a prime window booth looking out onto the harbor. After settling Keela down on the red cushioned bench, Sybil looked around the dining room with its beamed ceiling, whitewashed walls of crushed shells and stone, and a small fire crackling in the huge stone fireplace.

"Although it all looks a bit different in the brightness of the afternoon this too is just as lovely as I remember." Her voice was soft and Tom thought the dreamy look on her face reflected that romantic evening.

Sybil leaned across the table and whispered to Tom "so with the extra money does it mean I can order a seven course lunch?"

Tom rolled his eyes and teasingly replied "Can't quite shed that Lady Sybil persona can you?"

After a lunch, not of seven courses, but grilled sea flounder garnished with grilled shrimp accompanied by roasted potatoes they strolled along the pier before heading to the nearby cove-like beach amazed at how much warmer it was here than up at Summit Head. The earlier threats of rain had disappeared, the winds had also vanished, and the afternoon was bright and sunny.

Holding Keela against his chest Tom and Sybil walked further up on the sandy beach to avoid any of the cold sea water of the waves breaking on shore. He watched as Sybil stopped to scoop up several seashells. "I'll put these in that jar with the other ones we got here. Every time I look at the jar I think of that lovely trip and now I'll also think of this wonderful day."

"Next year Sybil we'll come in the summer time and maybe this little one here" Tom nodded at Keela "will take her first steps in the sand and we'll sit at the water's edge and build a sand castle."

Sybil, her face beaming with hope and love, looped her arm around his. "That sounds just lovely Tom!"

Lying in bed, awake but his eyes still closed, Tom heard Sybil's soft murmurs as she soothed their crying daughter. In just a moment or two the bedroom had become quiet and he knew that Sybil had taken Keela into the sitting room. He didn't need to look at his bedside alarm clock for if Keela was settling into a new routine, and he hoped that she was for it meant that the infant was now sleeping through most of the night, he knew it was about half past four in the morning.

Still lying in bed, he stretched out his arms and legs and took a deep breath before rubbing his hands along the sides of his face. Finally sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair as he turned his face to look at the small bedside alarm clock. In the dusky bedroom light he was barely able to make out the time: 4:25. His first thought was how grateful he was for the six full hours of uninterrupted sleep then shaking his head and emitting a slight chuckle he thought how times had changed that he was actually happy to be awoken at such an early hour but such was the effect of having a newborn in the house.

The early start would give him time to work a couple of hours in the garage before heading to the newspaper office. Now with Keela he wanted to be home earlier in the evenings when she was at her most alertness. In his childhood he had been around babies and infants as long as he could remember but he thought they had been more of a pest or a chore than something to be excited about.

But now … he loved seeing the minute daily changes in his daughter. He loved that she'd turn her head to look at him when he called her name, that she smiled as he talked to her, her little fingers grasping his much large ones. He loved the way she gurgled when he blew bubbles on her at bath time and how she crinkled up her eyes and flailed her arms when her hair got wet. He love holding her close to his chest, gently rubbing her head or her back as he walked up and down the sitting room softly singing to her in Irish or telling her one of the great myths or legends. All the horrors he saw or wrote about during the day vanished when he walked through his front door and saw her.

It had become Sybil's favorite time of the day, this time when dawn was still an hour away and the city was mostly asleep. She loved the quietness, the stillness of the darken street below the sitting room's windows. She didn't turn on a lamp preferring the room's soft illumination from the gas lamp at the street corner. Sinking into the comfort of the lounge chair, holding Keela snuggly against her chest while the infant hungrily feeds, Sybil feels a contentment she never knew existed.

Although she had never voiced it, Sybil had been dismayed to learn she was pregnant. It was just too soon she thought. It had only been mere months into her marriage and she was still getting adjusted to living with Tom and then of course there was her new home, new country, new work. It had been so many changes in such a short time and she wanted more time to savor those changes and what she considered in new freedom and a baby just wasn't what she wanted.

Sybil tenderly ran her hand over the top Keela's head tamping down her dark silky hair. Now she couldn't imagine life without this precious little one.

The garage was only a few blocks away and, as he usually did, Tom chose to walk there via the alley that ran behind the furniture store. During the day the alley was busy with lorries making deliveries to the many small businesses along it and workmen taking quick breaks stood smoking or chatting in groups of two or three but this morning no one else seemed up and about. The alley wasn't totally cast in blackness as at this early hour the sky had retreated from inky black to a steely gray with scattered patches of much paler gray. Here and there, where the alley intersected with other alleyways or streets there were streaks of brighter light emanating from nearby unseen street gas lamps.

Tom pulled the collar of his jacket tighter about his neck thinking how much cooler the mornings were getting and he'd soon have to start wearing his winter coat. He didn't look forward to winter with its long dark nights and cold rains.

Happily fed, Keela lay contently on her mother's lap, smiling and waving her arms and feet as Sybil softly crooned some nonsense about a cow jumping over the moon. The quietness of outside her window was suddenly shattered by three sharp bangs that startled Sybil. It might have been the backfire of a motor car but Sybil had been in Dublin long enough that her first thought was of gunfire. She sat very still listening for any other sounds and soon heard muffled shouts and what she thought was the distant clop clop of running footsteps on the empty streets.

Tom was just crossing one of the streets that intersected the alley when off to his right came the undeniable sounds of gunfire followed sounds of shouting and running footsteps. The journalist in him was curious as to what was happening but he knew enough that in this darken alley he had to seek the safety of shelter so he quickened his pace.

The running footsteps came closer. The shouting was louder. Tom was almost to the next building.

The running footsteps hadn't come this way beneath her window and their sound became fainter. Sybil exhaled surprised that she had been holding her breath. Keela gurgled reminding her mother that she was still there. Whatever it was must be over Sybil thought and she smiled down at her daughter.

But that thought was quickly banished by the sound of two more gunshots.