A/N: I've already thanked pearlydewdrop for her review of the last chapter but it is because of her that I'm finishing this story. This chapter was going to cover December and Sybil meeting with Mary and Isobel but since there is so little interest in this story I've decided to wrap it up. This was going to be the last chapter but even eliminating quite a bit of the story there was so much to cover to get to the ending (the same ending I always envisioned) that it will be in two parts.

April 1921

Sybil woke, her eyes adjusting to a room steeped in sunshine filtering in through flimsy curtains. She stood up and the tile floor felt cool on her bare feet. Looking towards the French doors she knew she could step on onto the balcony and into warm sunshine.

She'd stand on her hillside perch looking down across terraced lawns of green grass, flowering trees and shrubs to the village below nestled among hills of scrubby Cyprus trees and fronting the sea. The village provided a colorful sight with its red tile roofs of closely packed tall houses painted in an array of pastels, pinks, blues, and yellows, with awnings of bright greens, reds, blues protecting windows and cast iron balconies, many with window boxes overflowing with colorful blooming flowers, from the heat of the sun. Standing tall were graceful palms adding little shade but touches of more green. And there edging it all was the sea, stretching as far as one could see, shimmering in the sunlight water in shades of blue so unlike any sea or ocean she had ever seen before.

Was that just a dream? Would she step out onto that balcony and see the cold churning water of the tempestuous Irish Sea?

How could her life have changed so much in just a few short months?

She closed her eyes and thought back to how the new year had begun. Dublin had become so turbulent with a vicious cycle of attack and reprisal by both sides but on New Year's Day if just for a little while, in the workshop of Fergus' furniture shop with the carriage doors locked and bolted keeping the outside world at bay, in a makeshift dining room it looked like a family gathering celebrating the beginning of a new year. Everyone had contributed something for the dinner, resulting in a table full of dishes of roast pork and vegetables, coddle, and colcannon, soda bread and barmbrack. Watching them talking and laughing, clearing their plates of cake and biscuits, drinking tea, some of which she was sure had been laced with whiskey, Sybil had thought of how that day at least they were a family.

She thought of Fergus, that bear of a man, cheerily presiding over that table, who had proclaimed her barmbrack bread the best he had ever tasted. Dear Fergus who had become … friend didn't quite convey her feelings for him …

Fergus looked at the diamond and jade ring that a visibly nervous Sybil held in her hand. "I do believe you're already married my lass."

Sybil gave him a faint smile before looking down at her hand. "It's worth quite a bit and you probably know where to get a better price than I could." She looked up at him. "It's been a couple of months since Tom's done any work for you and I haven't …" she held out the ring to him. "Take it in lieu of rent money. It should pay for -"

"I'll hear none of that my lass." Fergus clasped her hands in his. "Tom will be back on his feet one of these days and how many times this past month have you treated some poor lad shot or beaten by those thugs masquerading as a militia."

"But Fergus it's not just the rent" she began. "You're providing the coal to keep the flat warm and the electricity."

"The coal warms the whole building and the electricity is also for the whole building." He looked at her and smiled. "Besides what kind of godfather would I be if I let my goddaughter freeze?"

Family. Those sitting around that table on New Year's day had become her family. Some of course were related to Tom but others like Mánús …

Sybil was surprised to open the door and see Mánús, his shoulders permanently stooped from working on tables and chests, standing there. She had at first meetings thought him gruff but came to realize he was rather shy, someone much more comfortable around old furniture than with people. He always wore old coveralls and his hands seemed permanently stained but he had a way of making old furniture beautiful once more. He had never come to the flat before and seeing him alarmed her that something had happened to Fergus or one of the other lads. "Does Fergus need me for something?"

"Ah … no ma'am" he hesitantly responded as he looked down at the floor. While she waited for him to say whatever it was that had brought him to her door this morning she noted that he had traded his coveralls for a shirt looked freshly pressed and he had made an effort to tame his unruly red hair. Finally raising his hands he held out a beautifully carved box "I made this for the little lass."

Sybil's eyes widened as she looked at the box. "For Keela?"

As he nodded in response, he handed her the box. "It's so beautiful" Sybil said as she looked closely at the dark wooden box with its intricate carvings. Looking up at him she said "What a wonderful gift" causing him to smile.

Sybil opened the door wider. "Please come in and meet her."

"Ah" he shuffled his feet but didn't move. "Please Mánús come in."

His eyes downcast he followed Sybil into the sitting room where Keela lay in her bassinette. She was surprised to see his face break out in a wide smile as he watched Keela happily gurgling and flaying her tiny arms. "She's beautiful like her Ma."

"Would you like to hold her" Sybil asked an astonished Mánús.

Would she ever see any of them again?

The squawking of two birds outside the window brought Sybil back to the present. Sybil walked towards the balcony.

January 1921

"I'm not sure he'll-" the words died on her lips as Sybil sighed deeply then ran her damp hands down the sides of her apron.

"You've given him a chance maam" came the grateful reply from one of the men who had brought him here. Although she didn't know him by name, they stayed anonymous for each other's safety, Sybil recognized him from previous visits here. "He's lucky you were the one to answer the call."

Staring down at the young lad laying on the cot, her hand gently brushed his hair back from his face. He looks so young Sybil thought, somewhere there must be a mother wondering why her son wasn't coming home tonight. "There's nothing more to be done right now. I'll stay with him through the night in case he-" her voice once again trailed off.

The man touched her arm. "We need to leave before curfew but there'll be someone downstairs and I'll have one of my men stay here with you."

"It won't be necessary" came the voice of another man who had just come into the room and Sybil smiled at the sound of Cillian's voice.

Sybil sat down in the stiff wooden chair thankful to finally be off her feet and greedily took a drink of steaming tea that that Cillian had brought with him. She was grateful that it was Cillian that was here with her for she had no qualms talking to him about her doubts of the other patient who sat on a cot at the far end of the room staring at them. Normally someone with such a superficial wound, the bullet had only glanced his arm leaving much blood but no lasting damage, would not stay here but this man had insisted he could not, would not, leave his comrade. Yet, to Sybil's eyes, he had shown more interest in those around him, the men who had brought him here than in his far graver wounded friend.

He had seemed especially interested in her trying to engage her in conversation. But you're English so what makes you help us. She had rebuffed all his attempts at conversation (this place must be so different from where you're from) feeling as if it were more interrogation than interest. He had tried opening one of the painted black windows, needing fresh air he had claimed, but Sybil thought he was trying to determine where he was.

"Cillian" she whispered fearing the man was only feigning sleep "I think there's something off about him" nodding her head slightly towards the man on the cot.

Robert Conlon stood uncomfortably in the foyer of the Major's house watching the pretty housemaid go inform the master of the house of his arrival. Usually they met in a pub as if two old acquaintances meeting by chance but Robbie knew that the Major would want to know this information right away. Although of course he wouldn't, couldn't, report everything that had happened. Robbie's hand brushed across his forehead. He'd tell of being blinded with a hood over his head, that was of course the truth at least for his arrival at that place. As to his leaving? He was sure the English nurse had drugged him for he had woken propped against a lamp post in St. Patrick's Park having no memory of how he had gotten there. Nor did he realize he had been followed since then, watched as he had groggily made his way to his little room in a dingy boarding house (part of his charade acting as Robert Conlon Irish rebel) and then followed here to the house of Major James Sutter.

"I've found her" Robbie blurted out as the Major walked towards him not realizing the housemaid was closely following him "the English nurse."

The only sounds in the dining room were the scrapping of a fork against a plate or the rattle of a teacup being set on a saucer. The two diners never looked at each other as they made their way through the appetizer (shrimp and slices of boiled egg on toast), the leek soup, and then the entrée of roast chicken. It was only as James finished the last of his apple tartlet that he set his fork down and looked at his wife.

"You've seen a bit down lately Victoria." Victoria looked warily at her husband. "I thought you'd feel more comfortable here now that you've met your friend Lady Sybil but you haven't mentioned her lately.

"Sybil's quite busy. She has an infant daughter and her husband's been quite sick."

James almost laughed at how this topic had just fallen into his lap. "Nothing serious I hope. But I guess she's nursing him back to health."

"Just as I'd look after you dear" she tartly replied.

"But isn't Lady Sybil a trained nurse?"

Victoria became more wary wondering just what James was really after, he certainly wasn't concerned about her welfare and certainly not about Sybil and her family. "Women of our class don't train for anything other than learning how to throw dinner parties."

Her accent is quite posh, obviously upper crust English. Name Sybil. Robert had managed to learn quite a bit about the elusive English nurse that was helping the Irish rebels, clandestinely caring for their wounded. James glanced at Victoria. It was always a tricky subject bringing up the Great War with Victoria, she'd usually lapse into histrionics about her dead brothers. If only she knew how that insufferable fool brother of hers Reggie had really died.

"It's just that during the war quite a few stately homes were turned into convalescent homes and the women of your class did volunteer as nurses. Maybe Lady Sybil was one of them."

Why was James so insistent on this topic of Sybil and nursing Victoria wondered? She had the oddest feeling she needed to protect Sybil and so she wouldn't give James the satisfaction of the truth.

"I'd hardly call serving tea and writing letters for wounded men nursing. Besides if their home was used as a convalescent home I'm sure Sybil's father thought she was much too young, her older sisters might have served but neither of them ever struck me as caring and compassionate."

But James was undeterred. Posh. Sybil. It had to be Victoria's friend. He needed to find out here Lady Sybil lived. "Well I just hope her husband's illness is nothing too serious. Maybe you should go and visit her, cheer her up."

"Actually we're meeting for lunch on Thursday."

Ah this might work out better than I thought James. "Might you entertain her here?"

"No" the word came out more harshly than Victoria intended. "I mean it's a treat for both of us to get out of the house."

James nodded as if seeing his wife's point. "So is it the Shelbourne or another one of your hidden little tea shops?"

"Neither" Victoria took a sip of her tea. "Sybil suggested a restaurant near Trinity College."

"Is Lady Sybil taking classes there?"

"No but it's an area where we won't stand out being British."

"Yes one can't be too cautious these days."

"And who's-" Victoria stifled her thoughts on that subject not wanting to get into another fight with her husband. "I just hope it's a nice day and maybe we can walk around the university grounds."

The stage was set. He had men placed near the restaurant. As soon as Robert identified the woman meeting Victoria as the right Sybil he'd set his plan in motion. It was a capture that might earn him a promotion. It should also earn him a great deal of money for what English Earl would want it known that his daughter was working on behalf of the Irish rebels.

A/N: Just in case the guest who recently left a review of Downton Remembered is reading this I want to warmly thank you for that wonderful review. Reviews are so rare especially of an older story and this one came at a time when I was feeling quite down. I loved writing that story and I think it is my best one.