A Visitor

After luncheon Lord Grantham had the car brought around. Tom groaned a bit at the thought of being driven about in a chauffeur driven limousine when he was perfectly capable of driving himself. He reminded himself that he needed to put up and shut up when it came to his wife's family.

"Why the interest in this young man?" Lord Grantham inquired when they were almost to the Drake farm.

"He's more a boy than a young man," Tom answered. "Sybil took a shine to him. His mother is a neighbor of my mother's. He was headed for trouble until Sybil took an interest in him."

"I thought you said Sybil was protected in Ireland?" his father-in-law challenged him.

"She was. Rory just needed a little guidance. Essentially he's a good lad."

Lord Grantham gave his son-in-law an appraising look. He never quite knew what to make of the man.

Mrs. Drake came hurrying out of the house when she saw the car pull into the yard.

"Lord Grantham, we weren't expecting you," she said with a curtsey. "My husband is in one of the out buildings. I'll just go and fetch him."

"Thank you, Mrs. Drake," Lord Grantham said. "May I present my son-in-law, Tom Branson."

"How do you do?" Tom said.

"Lady Sybil's husband?" Mrs. Drake inquired.

"Yes."

"Rory's done nothing but talk about you and Lady Sybil since he arrived," she said.

"Nothing too terrible, I hope," Tom said with a smile.

Just then Rory came around the corner of a building followed by a pack of the Drake's children.

"Tom," he called and jogged across the yard. He grabbed the older man's hand and threw an arm around him. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you," Tom said with a smile.

Rory flushed.

"You didn't have to. I'm not in any trouble."

"I didn't expect you were," Tom said. "This is my father-in-law, Lord Grantham."

"Hello, Sir," Rory looked down turning beet red. "Thank you for finding me this job."

"I trust you aren't letting my daughter's faith in you down," Lord Grantham said.

Rory's headshot up and his chest puffed out slightly.

"Oh no, sir. I owe Sybil, I mean Mrs. Branson, everything," he replied. Since he'd been at the farm, Rory's chest and arms were starting to fill out. He'd lost the sullen look he'd had back in Ireland.

"You're looking well," Tom said to Rory.

John Drake arrived on the scene and after the introductions were made took Lord Grantham to see the cattle he was interested in. Rory wanted to drag Tom off to show him the farm. Lord Grantham could hear the two of them conversing in Irish. He watched his son-in-law's retreating back through narrowed eyes.

"That boy has a terrible case of hero worship for your son-in-law," John Drake commented.

"I hope the boy hasn't been any trouble," Lord Grantham commented.

"He's no trouble at all. He's a good lad, hard working and eager enough. There wasn't anything wrong with him a little hard work and fresh air wouldn't fix. He seems to think the sun rises and sets on Mr. Branson. Rory told us after a bit he had been in some trouble in Ireland. His father is long since gone. Mr. Branson got ahold of him and told him if he ever did anything stupid again he wouldn't have to worry about the police because he would find him first. Took him under his wing from what Rory says."

Lord Grantham's eyes opened slightly. "I would hardly think my son-in-law would be a role model for a troubled boy," he thought to himself.

Rory was busy showing Tom the tractor he had learned to drive. The Drake's had purchased a lorry as well and Rory had the task of driving it around the farm.

"Your Ma wanted to know why you haven't written," Tom commented in Irish.

"I need to think some things over," Rory said. "You know how she feels about the English."

"You haven't been in trouble since you've been here have you?"

"No! I don't really know anymore why I was being so stupid."

"Not stupid, just going about things the wrong way," Tom said. "Freedom for Ireland is a worthy goal, just not as a thug. It will get you killed. You still need to write to your Ma."

"I know. Where's Sybil?"

"She's at the Abbey. She's tired from the trip. We only arrived this morning. She'll be mad when she finds out I came to see you without her. You can go up and see her. We'll be there for two more days."

"I can't go there!"

"Why ever not?"

"They're all Lords and Ladies. They won't want me there."

"They don't bite. Even if you think they might sometimes," Tom said. "You haven't told your mother about Sybil's family have you?"

"No and I'm not going to. She would never understand."

"No she wouldn't," Tom agreed, "and it would just make problems for my mother and us if we decide to go back to Dublin."

"I won't do that," Rory declared.

The next afternoon Rory dutifully arrived at the front door of Downton Abbey. He was wearing his best clothes. A butler with a huge nose and giant busy eyebrows opened the door.

"Deliveries are around the back," he said when he saw the young man nervously twisting his cap on the doorstep.

"I've come to see Mrs. Branson," Rory squeaked out. "Her husband said I should come."

Carson gave him a disapproving frown.

"Wait here. I will see if she's available."

Rory sat on a chair just inside the door and twisted his hat even harder. His eyes were like saucers at the size of the house. He was sweating profusely and wanted to bolt out the door.

Sybil came waddling around the corner in a minute and broke into a huge smile when she saw him.

"Rory, I'm so glad you've come," she said wrapping him in a hug. "I could have choked Tom when he went to see you yesterday without me. Come in the drawing room. I want to hear everything about how you're making out."

Rory dutifully followed Sybil to the drawing room. His head was on a swivel. He felt like he was going to faint.

"Have a seat," Sybil said. "I'm afraid Tom isn't here. My parents are having guests tonight and he's off getting some evening attire. My grandmother almost had a seizure last night when he wore a suit to dinner."

Rory was so shocked by the house and Sybil's family situation he couldn't speak. The butler reappeared carrying a massive silver tray with a tea service on it and set it on a side table. He left when Sybil told him to just leave it they would see to tea themselves. Sybil shushed Rory over to a small table by the window and poured him a cup of tea.

"Now tell me about the farm," Sybil said. Sitting at the table Rory finally came out of his shock and started telling Sybil about his job and new life. Once he started to relax and realized she was the same woman who had tended to him back in Dublin, he became more animated and enthusiastically related the details of his new existence.

"Have you given any thought to what you want to do with your life?" Sybil asked him.

"I think I'd like to be a doctor," Rory told her shyly, "but I don't see how that could be now. I messed up pretty bad."

"It's a fine ambition," Sybil said. "Your past is just that. The past. Your future is what matters now. You leave it to me and I'll make some enquiries. You know it would take a lot of work to become a doctor?"

Rory nodded and blushed slightly.

"I was good at school. I only finished a little more than a year ago."

"You wait here," Sybil said. She got up and waddled off.

After a few minutes the door opened and a middle-aged woman and a dark haired lady came into the room. Rory stood up quickly. His eyes darted every which way as though he were caught somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

"Hello, who are you," said the older lady with an American accent.

"I'm Rory Lester, Mrs. Branson said to wait here," his Irish brogue and nervousness weren't lost on Sybil's mother and older sister.

"Then you should wait," Lady Cora said with a smile. She retrieved her needlework and both women left the room.

Sybil waddled back and handed Rory a book on anatomy from her nursing training.

"You could start by reading this," Sybil said. "It is not as complex as what you would read at medical school, but it's a start."

"Sybil?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you always so nice to me?"

"Because you fell at my feet like an injured bird and you remind me a lot of my husband."

Rory's chest puffed out a little at her words.

"Do you really think I'm like Tom?"

"Yes, I do."

"I want to be just like him." The hero worship was evident in his statement.

"Not just like him," Sybil corrected gently. "You need to be just like you. I'll tell you a secret."

"What is it?" Rory's eyes got bigger.

"My husband hates potatoes. Now what kind of Irishman is that, who hates potatoes?"

Rory started to laugh.

"The kind who doesn't join the group I got involved in," he joked back.

"Precisely," Sybil replied.

Sybil walked Rory out when it was time for him to leave. He had a horse tethered outside. He thanked her again for the book before he mounted and rode off.

"Who was that boy?" her mother inquired as Sybil was coming back into the house.

"Just the son of my mother-in-law's neighbor," Sybil said. "Tom and I have been looking out for him a bit. He needed a little direction."

"I hope he's not some kind of a rebel," Lady Cora said looking concerned.

"He's not a Rebel anymore," Sybil replied. "Almost getting killed changed his mind."

"What?" Lady Cora squeaked.

"He was member of the Irish Volunteers. He got shot and I saved his life. It changed his mind about a few things."

"And you sent him here!"

"He's a good boy, Mama. He just had his head on wrong for a while."

"Sybil, you should be more careful."

"I am careful, Mama. He's not a rebel anymore. He wants to be a doctor and I plan to help him."

"Good gracious," Lady Cora said. "What kind of life were you leading in Ireland?"

"One that mattered," Sybil replied before she waddled upstairs for a nap.