A/N: I'm especially thankful for those that continue to read this story. I know it's a painful subject for so many including myself. As always I appreciate the reviews.
It was a most unusual situation thought Ida Swanson. She had worked for enough families like the Crawleys to know that babies were like a bauble. Something to be brought out for an hour each afternoon where they were cooed at and fawned over before being put back in their box otherwise known as the nursery which was usually located far from the domain of the rest of the family so that no one would be disturbed by sounds of a crying baby.
But nothing about this situation was normal even barring the tragic circumstances surrounding the child's birth. The nursery, which was really just a bedroom in which a bassinet had been placed, was in a short corridor just off the main corridor where the family's bedrooms were located. Her ladyship visited daily as did the two sisters. Lady Grantham didn't display any of the usual awkwardness or stiffness with the infant that Ida thought seemed to be the more prevalent behavior of aristocratic parents and she attributed that to her being American.
Then of course there was the child's father. It hadn't been a month since his wife's death when Ida had come to Downton and the deep grief of the man was evident. On more than one occasion she had found him sitting beside the bassinet watching his sleeping daughter, his hand holding onto one of her tiny fingers, with tears streaming down his face. Now he was more likely to sit on the window seat holding her snuggly in his arms or slowing rocking back and forth in the rocking chair holding her little body against his chest as his hand gently brushed her hair or rubbed her back. Sometimes he jabbered away in a language Ida didn't understand while at other times he sat there in silence.
In the first weeks she was here, the man seemingly lived in the nursery, even having his meals sent up on a tray, leaving only to sleep. Ida wasn't use to having someone in the nursery with her and she often wondered why she was even here when Mr. Branson did almost everything for the child leaving the laundry and preparing bottles as the only tasks solely performed by her.
Although he still spend the bulk of his day in the nursery he had begun taking the child out in the pram for long walks in the morning and often again in the afternoon and now he sometimes left the nursery for his meals, breakfast or lunch but never dinner she noted. He also spent time with Mr. Crawley out on the grounds of the vast estate.
It was only through her visits to the kitchen or laundry that she had gathered tidbits of Mr. Branson's past as the family's chauffeur before marrying the youngest daughter of the house then the couple marrying and living in Ireland before fleeing back to Downton under somewhat mysterious circumstances. None of the servants had an unkind word to say about the late Lady Sybil, which Ida thought spoke well of her, and all seemed to genuinely grieve for the young woman.
All in all it was a most unusual situation thought Ida.
"Seeing the state of the sheds I'm surprised this barn is still standing" Tom remarked. He and Matthew were standing in the yard of what had once been a working tenant farm. While one shed had completely collapsed and the other was missing a wall, the barn in comparison was in good shape. There were a few planks missing in one of the walls but the open door showed that the loft was still standing as evidenced by the hay scattered over its floor.
When Matthew had become part owner of Downton and therefore privy to the estate's inner workings he was surprised to find just how precarious the financial side was as well as how slipshod the management had been. The farm he and Tom were visiting today was certainly an example of that lack of management.
"How long has this farm been deserted?" Tom asked.
"I'm not sure. I couldn't tell from the ledgers" Matthew responded. "But I do know it's not the only one."
"So while the estate was in desperate need of money there was land not being used?" Tom shook his head in disbelief.
"Unbelievable isn't it?" Matthew couldn't keep the disdain out of his voice.
"Actually I'm not too surprised." Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Men like Lord Grantham are too" he stopped as he realized he was talking to Matthew.
"Are too what?" Matthew asked.
Tom shook his head. "Are you sure this if the life you want rather than being a solicitor?"
"I am the heir whether I want it or not and now that I've invested my inheritance …I don't really have any choice."
Tom nodded. "Well at least you know what …" he looked off in the distance. Just beyond the crumbling stone wall that formed one of the borders of the yard was a field that at one time must have been a pasture but now was full of overgrown weeds.
Matthew looked at the man he now thought of as a friend. His heart ached for all the pain Tom was enduring. "There's no hurry for you to leave Tom."
"I'm not sure that sentiment is shared by everyone else certainly not Robert."
Matthew looked down at the ground a bit embarrassed. Tom was right Robert did want him to leave.
Tom picked up a stone and tossed it across the yard. "I'm not like you Matthew. Robert only sees me as a servant and with Sybil gone he doesn't even have to pretend to tolerate me."
"Have you thought of what you'll do?"
Tom closed his eyes and shuddered. "Getting a job at another newspaper is out. I tried that before" his voice broke "before Sybil died. The few papers that bother to respond were negative."
He picked up another stone and threw it. "My brother is moving to Liverpool to open a garage. He's asked me to come with him."
This news surprised Matthew not only because it was the first time he heard it but that he had no inkling about Tom's family. "Would you really consider that?"
"I don't really see much else." Tom continued throwing the stones much like he had done as a little boy. "I need a job. At least it's something I know and enjoy."
"But what of Sybbie?" Matthew asked.
Tom furrowed his forehead. "What of Sybbie?"
"What will you do with her?"
"I'll take her of course. I'll hire someone to watch her while I'm at work or maybe one of my cousins will come over."
"You could leave her here."
Tom turned to face Matthew his eyes burning with anger. "She's my daughter Matthew. She will come with me."
Matthew's face turned red realizing he had angered his brother-in-law. He reached out and touched Tom's arm. "I just meant until you get settled."
Tom nodded as he realized he had spoken too harshly and that Matthew's intentions were good. His eyes clouding with tears he spoke very softly "She's all I have left of her mother and I won't be separated from her."
Since that night there were two rooms in the house that Robert had avoided. Like the rest of the family he had avoided the room where Sybil had spent her final moments. Unlike the rest of the family he had avoided the nursery. In fact, he had not seen his granddaughter since the night she was born.
He couldn't face seeing her for she was too much of a painful reminder of what he had lost and, even worse, what he had done. It would be easier when Tom left taking her with him.
He was sitting at his desk when he spied Matthew and Tom walking away from the house. He knew they were going to visit one of the tenant farms, it was something they had discussed at breakfast, and so he knew they would be gone for an hour or more. Laying his pen on the desk top, Robert closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead thinking maybe it was time.
His stride lessened the closer he got to the nursery until he stopped just short of the open doorway. He could hear the sounds of someone, probably the nanny, bustling around the room opening and closing drawers. He knew he had to do this not only for his sake but for hers. Her … the thought stopped him cold. It wasn't just her … it was two hers … it was Sybil and her child.
The nanny couldn't have looked more shocked than if the sky had fallen in. She had only seen the master of the house from a distance and had never been introduced to him even though she had now been working here for a month.
She nervously patted her cap before dropping her arms to her side. "Your lordship" she stammered.
Standing in the doorway, he nodded at her aware of her discomfort and wondered if she could see that in him too.
"I came to see my …" he fumbled a moment before saying "my granddaughter."
She stared at him wondering what had brought about this sudden visit.
He looked around the room before his eyes rested on the bassinet. Maybe if she was sleeping this would be better he thought.
He walked over to the bassinet and looked down at the child laying there. She was lying on her back with a soft pink blanket covering most of her but for one tiny arm atop of the blanket.
"Mr. Branson just left and I always put her down then" the nanny spoke but Robert wasn't listening. His eyes were glued on the sleeping infant.
Unaware that the nanny was still babbling away, Robert said "I was wondering if I might have a few minutes alone with her."
My heavens! thought the nanny, this morning couldn't get any stranger. "Of course my lord." She hesitated before adding "I'll just take these things down to the laundry if that's all right."
Without taking his eyes off the child in the bassinet, he nodded his head. "I'll be fine" he remarked.
She bustled about picking up some things, took one long look at his lordship and then hurried out of the room.
Robert stood there watching the gentle rise and fall of the infant's chest. It had been so long that he had forgotten how small children were at this stage. Surprised at how much hair she had, he automatically reached into the bassinet and gently ran one finger over her dark hair so much like her mother's. His touch caused her to wiggle although her eyes remained shut.
He pulled a chair over to the bassinet so he could sit there close to her. She began to move with her arms and legs going in different directions. Emitting a few soft cries she finally opened her eyes. He wasn't prepared for the blueness of her eyes.
Oh how much she looks like her mother he thought.
Fearing she would begin wailing and the nanny not yet back, Robert reached in and patted her chest. She grabbed one of his fingers and wrapped her tiny hand around it. It was only as he called her name that she looked up at him.
"You finally came to see her." It was said quietly, the tone flat giving no indication of the speaker's feelings.
He wasn't aware of Cora's presence until she spoke. It was only recently that Cora had begun to forgive him although he feared she would never completely do so.
"I've been afraid to" the pain clear in his voice.
Cora stood on the other side of the bassinet looking down at Sybbie. She didn't look at him instead keeping her eyes on the infant but she was smiling. "She's such a happy baby … so much like her mother."
"She looks so much like her" he whispered.
The woman actually gasped when she got her first view of the Abbey for even in her imagination the place hadn't been this grand. She set her suitcase down on the gravel path as she took in the sight before her. The walk from the railway station hadn't been that long but she was winded by the time she reached this spot so she stood here for a few minutes before continuing on.
The building seemed to grow even larger the closer she got to it until standing directly in front of it she felt dwarfed by the sheer size of it. Even the oversized iron studded wooden front doors seemed to be made to emphasize the hugeness of the place. As she waited for someone to answer the buzzer, she looked up at the large black iron wolf heads adorning each door and thought they didn't seem a very welcoming symbol.
She waited so long for someone to answer the door that she wondered if there was another door guests were supposed to use. The huge man who finally opened the door seemed almost as imposing as the building.
She hadn't come all this way to be intimidated regardless of the disdainful way he looked at her or the dismissive tone of his deep voice. She didn't cower before the English at home and she wouldn't do so here.
"I'm here to see Tom Branson, my son" she proudly proclaimed.