Lessons

The next afternoon, Sybil came to find Tom for her next driving lesson. She had taken special care with her appearance and was excited to see him. When she arrived at the garage the Renault was gone. She checked the chalkboard where he kept the schedule to find he had driven her mother on a shopping trip. Sybil's heart sank. She had been looking forward to seeing him. Since she had agreed to marry him she felt a weight had been lifted off her heart. It would take some planning but she was looking forward to spending time with him.

She had always wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Her mother would have said her thoughts were most unladylike. When it came to Tom Branson almost every thought Sybil had about him was unladylike. She wondered what lay under his clothes and what it would be like to be with him as man and wife. She had seen lots of naked men in the hospital, but it wasn't the same. Tom was the one she would spend her life with and touch in an intimate way. Now that she had finally admitted her feelings and agreed to marry him, it couldn't happen soon enough.

Sybil wanted to leave a note for Tom so that he would know she had kept her word to meet him today. She didn't see any notepaper or pencils lying on the tool bench. She went through the door that separated the garage from the cottage and passed through a corridor into the kitchen. There was a small table under the window where Tom had his typewriter set up. On it was a stack of plain paper and Sybil went to retrieve a sheet. She couldn't help but glance at the partially typed letter in the machine. The words on the page made her stop.

On the typewriter was a partially typed article on the plight of the wounded once they were released from hospital. It was well written and obviously intended for publication. Sybil knew she was prying, but couldn't help her self. She looked at the other items laid out on the table and gasped slightly. There were at least half a dozen articles laid out on the table, each with notes attached and the names of different papers typed at the top of the pages. As well there was a list of things to do with some letters underneath. Sybil picked up the sheet of paper to see a list of places where Tom planned to apply for work as well as a short list of other errands he wanted to do. Sybil recognized a few of the newspapers on the list Tom had made out. "Newspapers?" she thought to herself. As she went to replace the list where she had found it, she realized the letter now at the top of the same pile was a job offer from a well-known newspaper dated almost a year ago. The next letter on the pile was almost the same. The sum offered with the position was considerably more than he made working for her father Sybil was sure.

"He's been waiting for me," Sybil said to herself. "All this time, he's been waiting." His words of proposal, "I'll make something of myself, I promise," came back to ricochet around her thoughts. If she had any doubt of his sincerity it was banished. He could have made something of himself then as he could now, if only her parents would be able to see it. Her blinders were off and she realized her own prejudice had prevented her from seeing the man Tom really was. He was more than a chauffeur. He was bright, hard working and ambitious. He would never let her go without. A tear slipped down Sybil's cheek. She had been such a fool to make him wait all this time. She heard a noise outside and quickly replaced the papers. She took a sheet of blank paper, quickly wrote out a note and slipped into the garage just as Tom was opening the doors to replace the car into it's stall.

"Sybil?" he said, surprised to see her.

"I was just leaving you a note," she said. She had a small smile on her face as she walked forward to kiss him on the cheek. He gave her a quick peck on the lips. His face was gritty from the drive he had just been on and he left a smug of dirt on the end of her nose.

"I'll just be a few minutes," he said. "Then we can take the other car out."

"You need to wash your face," she said with a slight laugh.

"That I do," he replied. "You can wait for me inside. It's a lot cleaner in there."

"I don't think I should."

"There's less likelihood of someone seeing you inside the cottage than out here. I promise I won't pounce on you," he joked.

Sybil nodded. "Too bad I can't promise I won't pounce on you," she thought.

Tom joined her inside in a few minutes.

"It's a nice cottage," Sybil commented.

"it's much too big for one person," Tom replied. "The man before me was married with children. The only time this cottage is filled up is when there are visiting chauffeurs for hunting parties. I'll just be a minute."

Tom headed off through a series of doors. Sybil wandered to the living room to see what it was like. There were a few worn copies of books on a shelf and others she recognized as from her father's library piled on the arm of one of the chairs. The space was comfortable and clean but lacked the fluff of a woman's touch.

Tom returned in a few minutes freshly shaved. Sybil thought how handsome he was. A shot of pure attraction ran through her, so strong it frightened her a bit.

"Let's go," Tom said holding his hand out to her. Sybil walked forward took his hand and gave him a shy smile. They stood there a minute staring at each other. Tom slowly lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Sybil's arms went around him. Her one hand ran up his neck to touch his hair. She didn't want to stop kissing him. She felt strange, as though she was floating, when she realized that Tom had picked her up in his arms and was carrying her. When he set her down she had the uncomfortable sensation of her underwear being wet.

"That's enough of that," he said with a smirk against her lips. "We'll never make it to the wedding night at this rate."

Sybil was a bit embarrassed and bit her bottom lip. She hid her face against his chest for a moment to regain her composure. They were back in the garage standing by the town car.

"I feel so foolish for making you wait so long," she said against him.

"Everything will work out as it should," he said. "Come and I'll show you how to start the car. I still intend to teach you how to drive."

Sybil lifted her eyes to him, smiled and nodded. He gave her another quick peck on the lips before he showed her how to start the car. They got in and Sybil had the car moving in no time. As she pulled out of the yard and shifted up to the next gear with only a mild crunching sound, Tom was giving her directions on how to make the next shift smoother, they spotted her father walking along the road.

"Oh no," Sybil groaned.

"You didn't tell him you were learning to drive?" Tom asked.

"Well, not exactly," Sybil said with a slight frown.

"Not exactly, like NO."

"You could say that," Sybil said as she pulled up and stopped by her father.

"Sybil what in blazes are you doing?" her father demanded.

"Driving lessons, Papa," she replied sweetly. "They could be useful. You never know when I might need to drive."

"You didn't ask my permission. Why wasn't I consulted?"

"You let Edith drive. I didn't think I needed your permission."

Tom was cringing a bit, expecting a tongue lashing from Sybil's father.

"I hope this isn't another of your schemes that ends with the two of you finding trouble."

"Of course not Papa," Sybil said sweetly. "It's just driving lessons."

Lord Grantham ground his teeth slightly. Branson was staring straight ahead, playing the part of the dutiful servant and ignoring his employer's conversation.

"Branson, I expect you to see to my daughter's safety."

"Certainly, milord. We won't be leaving the estate," Tom replied.

"See that you don't," Lord Grantham stated.

"Yes, milord," was all Tom said.

"Oh very well. Carry on then," Sybil's father said when he saw the expectant hopeful look Sybil was giving him.

"Thank you, Papa," she said. Sybil started fiddling with the gearshift trying to get the car back into first. Branson was busy giving her instructions. Lord Grantham watched them for a minute before they drove off. The car seemed to coast for a bit while Sybil switched gears but soon they were driving down the lane, although none too quickly. Branson was being respectful and doing his job, he reminded himself. He hadn't noticed anything unusual in their behavior. When those two were in the same place at the same time, it seemed trouble was always on their heels.