Time for Chapter 2! I also want to use this opportunity to wish coffeebean87 a Happy New Year because the next and final instalment will be posted on 6th January.

I would also like to thank you all for your reviews and kind words :)

26th December 1928 - Tom

When Tom Branson opened his eyes in the morning, his wife was still deep in her sleep. He gently caressed her hair and and placed a small kiss on her temple; she stirred slightly and murmured something, but did not open her eyes. As such, Tom decided not to wake her up, especially after they had gone to sleep very late the previous night; they had spent a long time on night conversation with Sybil's sisters and their husbands. They all met together so rarely; the occassion had needed to be used to the fullest.

Tom quickly dressed himself up and went down the stairs to the dining room and gasped when he saw only his father-in-law. While Robert did finally warm up to him, Tom was still wary of the man.

"Good morning," he greeted the Earl of Grantham.

"Good morning, Tom," replied Robert Crawley and painfully realised that today there was no newspaper behind which he could hide himself.

"The weather is much more welcoming outside today," remarked Tom in a desperate attempt to start a conversation.

"Yhm," Robert murmured apathetically.

Both men were saved by the entrance of Matthew and Bertie.

After greetings, they finally proceeded to eat. With four of them conversation flew easier, and soon they were discussing their and their families' plan for today.

"I think we should finally get some air. We spent all day at home yesterday. Time for some fresh air," Matthew suggested.

"But what do you want to do? The hunt is scheduled for next week," Robert said.

Tom groaned internally. Of course hunting was the only outdoor activity that time of year that his father-in-law could indulge in. Of course.

"In Ireland we usually hunt today, on St. Stephen's Day".

Both Bertie and Matthew turned towards Tom, while Robert's face said something like "Catholics! It's Boxing Day, not St. Stephen's Day".

"Maybe you also have some other traditions for 26th December?" Bertie inquired.

"Yes, it's called the Wren Boy Procession. A legend says that one day a group of Irish were hiding from well... British soldiers," Tom began and looked cautiously at his listeners, especially at Lord Grantham. "And their hiding place was discovered because a wren pecked at their drums and gave them away. As a punishment, the wren was killed and hung on a holly bush. As such, the custom is that we form processions and visit our families and friends. It used to be processions with a dead wren on pole, but now more and more often it's just holly bush. It also used to be a procession formed by only men, but now women participate too."

"I've got an idea!" Matthew clapped his hands. "We can visit my mother and Dickie. The children will love it."

"Especially since traditionally you need to have a blackened face," Tom grinned.

"Lovely, it's settled. If our wives agree, let's do it," Bertie nodded his agreement cheerfully.

Robert Crawley merely sighed.

As expected, the children were overjoyed with their fathers' idea. Sybbie excitedly told her cousins how they had visited the houses of her Gran, aunts and uncles in Dublin.

"And they give you cake at each house you visit?" George was determined to know.

"Cake, tea and some sweets."

"Lovely!" George and Marigold exclaimed.

Then it was time to blacken everyone's faces. Cora, Robert and Mary were flabbergasted in the beginning, but the children's enthusiasm eventually won them over.

"You look like a devil," Marigold remarked at George.

"And you like devil's wife," George retorted back.

"Devil does not have a wife, dummy," his cousin did not want to yield.

"Heey," Tom decided to intervene. "Do not quarrel over this."

"Yes," Sybbie interjected. "You look like soldiers dirty with mud. That's what it is supposed to mean."

That stopped her cousins, who now focused more on the holly bush on the pole, earlier prepared by Tom, Bertie and Matthew.

"Bravo, Sybbie. I think that the blackened faces are a reference to devil because wren was deemed to be the devil's bird after it betrayed the Irish, but that was a clever way to stop them," Mr. Branson whispered to his daughter's ear.

Sybbie lit up at her father's words.

They finally set off for their procession. The weather was cold, but it was not snowing; the air was fresh and the snow crispy.

Adults continued to talk about their matters and children played in snow, but then Tom suddenly broke into a song and Sybbie and Sybil joined him:

"The wren the wren the king of all birds

St Stephen's Day was caught in the furze

Her clothes were all torn her shoes were all worn/

Up with the kettle and down with the pan

Give us a penny to bury the "wran"

If you haven't a penny a halfpenny will do

If you havn't a halfpenny

God bless you!"

"What is it, uncle?" George asked.

"It's wren procession's song. Another legend that explains the origin of this tradition is that a wren betrayed St. Stephen to Romans. Also, bigger processions consisting of more families often raise money for some local school or charity."

"Maybe we can raise some funds in our circle?" Matthew proposed. "My mother and Dickie will surely also give something. We can then give these money to our hospital, my mother will see to this!"

"Excellent idea!" exclaimed Sybil and the rest of the family nodded.

Tom then took off his hat and gathered the offered money.

"There's also another version of the song. I'll teach you and you may sing it to Mrs. Crawley," Tom informed the children.

When Isobel Grey and her husband went to the door to greet their newly arrived guests, they saw the Crawleys, the Pelhams and the Bransons at the door with blackened faces, while Sybbie, George and Marigold began to sing:

"The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
On St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,
Although he is little, his family is great,
I pray you, good landlady, give us a treat."

Both Greys smiled widely.

"Is it some new tradition that we're unaware off? Likely Irish because of St. Stephen's Day..." Isobel remarked, while Richard Grey gestured to the maid to bring some gingerbread cookies and sweets.

"Yes, Aunt Isobel," Sybbie chirped cheerfully. "We teach Marigold and George our Irish traditions."

"And what do you think of them, darlings?" Mrs. Grey smiled at the two.

"I love them," said Marigold and George in unison.

Meanwhile, the maid brought the treats, which consumed the youngest members of the family's atttention completely (especially George's, to his grandmother's pleasure).

The whole family spent a very wonderful afternoon and early evening at Crawley House. They ate, talked, drank, sang and even danced a little. On the way home, the children and their parents had a snowball fight, which Sybbie, Marigold and George of course won.

After a light supper, the children were put to bed and the adults, who were also tired, directed their steps towards their respective bedrooms.

While Sybil was preparing for bed, Tom noticed that his wife's expression was rather miserable and he didn't understand why his usually optimistic wife was so sad after a really pleasant day.

"What is it, love?" he finally decided on asking.

"Nothing, Tom," Sybil began but then remembered that she and Tom had once promised to always be honest with each other. And she didn't like breaking promises.

"I saw Mary and Edith with their younger children and Sybbie's eyes when she saw Marigold and George with their siblings..."

Tom reached out for his wife, "My darling, you were reminded of that awful day..." he said as he kissed the top of her head.

"Not only that, love," Sybil whispered as she settled in her husband's embrace. "Also the fact that after the miscarriage we were never able to conceive again... and doctors didn't help us either."

"I know, darling, I know," Tom murmured soothingly.

"We have Sybbie and each other, but I would so love to have another child. I don't complain, just..."

Tom sighed. "I understand you completely. But right now what we may only have is hope."

"I'm not too patient," Sybil said.

"But I am," Tom smiled slightly. "Remember when I waited for you all those years? I doubted very often, but I didn't abandon hope and look where we are now. My biggest dream was fulfilled."

Sybil pondered her husband's words for a while; finally, she smiled weakly and captured Tom's mouth with her own.

When they finally parted, they stayed in embrace until sleep eventually won them over.