Cora and Tom sat with Sybil, she was still under the effects of anesthesia. At intervals Dr. Clarkson would come in to take her vital signs. On one visit he came in with a syringe and gave her a dose of morphine so her waking would be pain free.
When she woke she was highly disoriented. Tom held her hand and Clarkson ordered, "Talk to her."
"You're all right love" he chanted over and over.
Clarkson took pity on the irishman, "No, talk to her."
"Sybil my darling, we have a girl. We made a girl." He said more firmly.
The fog was slowly leaving Sybil's mind, "A girl?"
"Yes" Tom confirmed.
"I want to sit up" She said weakly.
Richard called for Isobel and between the two of them got her into a inclined position. Richard was intent on keeping Sybil here for at least a week perhaps more to make sure she healed properly. Tom handed her their child, for a few precious minutes Sybil held her daughter before she grimaced. Isobel took the baby while the doctor gave her another dose of morphine, "Rest now."
With the new mother and child in good care Cora went to the telephone and was connected to downton abbey. The whole of the abbey was buzzing with excitement. A girl!
Not all the news in the coming days was as joyous as the birth of the young Branson. Mrs. Hughes had received responses to her letters and none of them offered a position. Many of the households were had "downsized" after the war. Estates were dying and the need for servants was dwindling. Isobel was heartbroken over this, nevertheless she knew what she must do. That night as she was pillowed safely on Richard's skin she told him, "There aren't any spots for Ethel that Mrs. Hughes could find. You know what I must do."
He held her close, "Yes I do."
She could feel his tension, "You don't approve?"
He sighed through his nose, "That's not it, you tried I know you tried. I also know that Ethel saved you from a fate that I don't want to think about. I also know you won't lie and just write a reference, she must work for you. I'm just sulking that this will be one of the last times I get to hold you like this."
Isobel felt cold despite being warm from his touch, "What?"
Richard turned on his side so he could look at Isobel, "When you take on Ethel you must be at Crawley House to supervise her."
Isobel began to protest and he silenced her with a finger, "I know she wouldn't steal anything or do anything untoward but the village doesn't know that. Here Ethel is whore who is now working for the Mother of future Earl of Grantham. Tongues will wag, is Ethel running a brothel out of your home? You have to stay there."
She could see the truth of his words, it was one of the ugly things he had asked her think about. She didn't want to think of ugly things. She captured his lips with her own and he pushed her onto her back before covering her with his own body. Wrapping her legs around his waist she squeezed tightly urging him to take her. She wanted to feel him, she wanted the feeling of him to be with her for days. He granted her wish and rolled his hips with measured force and she moaned in pleasure. Richard loved seeing her like this and he stared at her face wanting to burn it into his memory. The desperation in their touches made each caress each kiss achingly tender. She whispered his name lovingly and he drank it in.
In the morning before Isobel made the journey to York she and Richard ate breakfast together. The mood was gloomy as if both of them were about to attend a funeral. As both headed to the door to leave Richard kissed her tenderly, "I told you once, 'we sink or swim together' keep swimming." Isobel journeyed to York and found Ethel she told her to pack her things, she was leaving. Ethel was thankful to leave but also hesitant. It was the final days of her occupancy here and she didn't have enough money for next month's rent. She didn't want Mrs. Crawley to suffer, it seemed that was all Ethel was good for-bringing suffering.
At Crawley House Ethel put on her livery and began her duties. The first hour was uneventful until Mrs. Crawley asked for tea and Ethel went to tell Mrs. Bird. The elder cook's disgust was evident in her face. Ethel stood still as the older woman brushed past her. In the drawing room Isobel heard heavy footfalls and turned towards the door just in time for Mrs. Bird to burst through.
"If she works here, I won't. I shall not have my good name soiled by the likes of her." She spat defiance burning in her eyes.
Isobel swallowed, she had known Mrs. Bird a long time. When she and Matthew had first come to Downton Mrs. Bird had come along as well. The one familiar face amongst strangers. She didn't want to lose her but Ethel needed this. Mrs. Bird could find other work however, without her help Ethel might possibly starve to death. "I accept your resignation and you will have an additional month's pay."
Mrs. Bird's eyes went wide, she had thought there would be no way that Mrs. Crawley would side with Ethel. She turned on her heel and left the drawing room. The next day Mrs. Bird left on the first coach to Manchester.
At Downton Abbey the pettiness that Sybil had told Dr. Clarkson about was beginning to seep back into its walls. Lord Grantham made a remark about calling for Reverend Travis.
"We'll need to talk with him, I can still remember the day he baptized you and your sisters" He had casually remarked to Sybil one evening over dinner.
Nothing was said in response only the clinking of silverware was heard as Sybil looked at her husband with eyes that pleaded for him to understand. Tom and Sybil had chosen the name Radha Sybil Branson for their daughter. The obviously Irish name seemed to remind everyone of the fact that Lady Sybil had married down. The issue of the child's faith would be another reminder. Tom did not like Reverend Travis and it wasn't because he was a protestant. The man's demeanor was not in keeping with a holy man. He had heard the whispers from the servants of how he almost refused to marry Daisy and William. If Tom had his way that reverend who had a hatchet for face wouldn't get anywhere near his daughter. Tom prayed for a miracle to intervene on his behalf, it came in the form of a piece of paper written by Mrs. Bird to one Joseph Molesley.