Chapter One Hundred
Alexander's Ragtime Band
Over in the lamp-lit farmhouse, still sitting on the high backed wooden settle, Sybil had been telling them about the Servants' Ball, which would, barring the earth spinning off its axis and disappearing into the void, in time-honoured tradition be taking place at Downton in three days' time. She described where it took place, in the magnificent stone flagged entrance hall of the abbey, and who was, at least at the outset of the dancing, required to partner whom; the small band hired for the occasion and the tunes which were played; the food and drink on offer, the fire blazing in the massive fireplace. Then, to the delight of her two young nieces, Sybil went on to reveal how during the Great War she and their uncle had danced together several times, before they fell in love and became engaged to be married.
"Of course, this year I shall miss all of the fun. And although I never told him so at the time, I always thought Tom looked so very handsome in his chauffeur's livery," laughed Sybil.
"What did I say earlier, about men in uniform?" asked Aislin with a grin, and mending the fire. "Did you hear from your parents at Christmas, Sybil?"
"From my grandmother, from both of them in fact, from my mother and my two sisters..."
"But not from your father?"
"No, not from my father" said Sybil softly.
She looked down at the floor. A sudden hushed silence descended on the room, punctuated only by the shouts of Ciaran and Ronan from outside in the farmyard and the sudden thump of a football thudding against a nearby wall.
"I'm so very sorry", said Aislin. "I didn't mean to pry".
"It's not your fault", said Sybil haltingly. With tears welling in her eyes, she raised her head. "There's nothing anyone can do about it, except change the subject".
A moment later, and the door to the farmhouse opened and Ciaran and Ronan, their faces flushed, Ronan clutching his football, both chatting animatedly about the next game to be played at Croke Park, followed hard on their heels by Tom, all came inside. Upon seeing Sybil's distress, in an instant, Tom was by her side, kneeling on the hard, uneven quarries of the floor, his arm flung protectively around his young wife's shoulders.
For a moment, Sybil seemed not to even realise he was there; instead, sat thoughtfully fingering the little shamrock brooch. Then now recognising him, and completely oblivious to the others here present, Sybil buried her face against Tom's chest.
"Oh, Tom!" "When your whole family have been so welcoming to me, why must Papa continue to be so utterly beastly?"
"Hush now, love". Tom pushed back a stray tendril of hair from off her face, grazed her forehead with his lips.
"He will come round. I promise you. He will!"
At that, Sybil sat bolt upright.
"No he won't!" she said savagely. "And, although I know you mean it kindly, don't try to defend him, Tom. Not anymore. Not when he won't even make the effort". Sybil clasped Tom's hand; placed a kiss on his palm, then pressed it to her stomach. "Papa won't even try. Not even now, when I'm carrying his first grandchild".
Sybil felt a slight but insistent tug on her arm. She looked up to see young Mairead standing next to her, with her head on one side, her frightened little face framed by a cluster of dark curls, her pale green eyes etched with concern. The little girl held out a slightly soiled handkerchief in one hand and a half-eaten piece of gingerbread in the other. Not to be outdone, Rosaleen clambered up onto the settle, snuggled up against Sybil, lightly caressed her cheek, and then rested her nut brown head on her aunt's shoulder
"Please Aunt Sybil..., please don't cry", she said softly.
Politely ignoring the offer of the gingerbread, Sybil accepted the kindly proffered handkerchief, wiped her eyes, nodded her thanks to Mairead, and then chucked the little girl gently under her chin before turning to Rosaleen.
"Darling, thank you. I'll try not to. I promise". She grinned self-consciously, becoming painfully aware that everyone's eyes were now upon her. Sybil blushed. "With all that's going on over here in Ireland, you must all think me very silly," she said softly glancing round at them all.
"No, of course not" said Aislin, reaching forward and gently squeezing Sybil's knee.
"Not at all my dear" said Ma gently. "No-one here thinks that".
At that, Tom rose slowly to his feet. With his fingers thrust into the pockets of his waistcoat, he stood looking thoughtfully down at Sybil for a moment, as if he was making up his mind about something, and then, quite unexpectedly, held out his hand to her.
"I think you need cheering up, milady. Come, I've something to show you". Following his lead, Sybil also now stood up. Then, taking her hand softly in his own, his eyes never for an instant leaving her face, Tom led her wonderingly to the door of the farmhouse. Outside, it was already beginning to grow dark and a light dusting of snow covered the cobbled surface of the yard, but as Tom opened the door, Sybil caught sight of Ruari, who, grinning broadly, his cloth cap set at a jaunty angle on his head, his thumbs held nonchalantly under the leather braces of his pair of new long corduroy trousers, was now standing over by the doors of the large barn.
"Now" said Tom. "Close your eyes". Sybil did as she was bidden, but not before, she saw Tom nod smartly at Ruari. With her eyes firmly shut. Sybil let herself be led slowly out into the yard, across the uneven cobbles, past the midden - the smell from it confirmed its presence - and thence, she thought, over towards the large barn, from where, above the plaintive lowing of cattle and the clucking of hens, echoing through the frost-hung air, there came unexpectedly the unmistakable strains of "Alexander's Ragtime Band".
"Don't peek, or I'll have to blindfold you! Would you prefer that I did?"
"Tom! Don't be so ridiculous! And of course I'm not peeking!" exclaimed Sybil indignantly. What on earth was he playing at? Where was he taking her and why did he insist she kept her eyes shut?
Yet, despite her slight nervousness, Sybil felt a frisson of anticipatory delight course through her whole being, much as she experienced when Tom's deft, practised fingers began unbuttoning her blouse or else unlacing her nightdress, both of which tasks always heralded more enjoyable pleasures yet to come. She guessed that she and Tom must both be somewhere over near the long barn on the other side of the farmyard. Somewhere a horse whinnied; she heard the creak of a door, smelt the smell of straw, of cattle, and of manure.
"Now my love, open your eyes", said Tom softly.
Author's Note:
Croke Park – a football stadium in Dublin – at the time of the story, used primarily, to host Gaelic games. Eleven months later, in November 1920, it would be the scene of a massacre, when members of the Royal Irish Constabulary shot indiscriminately into a crowd of spectators. The incident would become known as "Bloody Sunday".
Written by Irving Berlin, Alexander's Ragtime Band became a smash hit in 1911. The song appeared in the White Star Line's Songbook on board RMS Titanic, and was played on board the liner in the First Class Lounge - where dear Cousin Patrick might well have heard it - early on in the sinking. The song also features in James Cameron's film "Titanic".