How Much Work Can It Be?
By late afternoon Tom had returned from his shopping trip and joined Sybil in his bedroom. Lord Grantham knocked on the door. Tom opened the door to his father-in-law looking like a thundercloud.
"Your mother told me that boy was by today."
"Yes, Papa. Rory came to see me today."
"What right do you have to invite a rebel to my home?" he demanded of Tom.
"The boy isn't a member of the Irish Volunteers any more," Tom said calmly. "He's just a boy who needed help. He still does if he is to live a life without violence. Sybil is fond of him and she wanted to see him."
"I don't want his kind of rebel scum on my property," Lord Grantham fumed.
"And what would you know about it?" Tom was angry and his voice was rising. "For every boy like him there are hundreds of others, beaten to death by the soldiers or thrown in jail and hanged. They're young, angry and a prime target for the worst kind of men. They prey on them and turn them into thugs. They aren't the kind of men who organize and fight for a cause. They're the worst of the worst. If I can do something to stop one of them from living that life, I will."
"Papa, Tom, please," Sybil said trying to calm the situation. Her father's face bore the signs of shock at Tom's words. Tom was the first one to attempt to make amends.
"I'm sorry if his presence here upset you," Tom said. "That boy has been fed a steady diet of hate. He honestly thought you would shoot him if he came here. I thought the best to undo some of it was to prove to him there is nothing to fear. Despite the house and all the rest of it, this is just a home with a normal family."
Sybil's father found a chair and sat down.
"Is it really that bad in Ireland?" Lord Grantham questioned.
"For some it is, Papa," Sybil said. "I've seen it first hand in the hospital. At first Rory was so afraid of me, he didn't want me touch him. I saw that a lot at work. He's a bright boy. He wants to further his studies. I'm encouraging him to do that."
"I've told you repeatedly that I'm not a rebel," Tom said. "Maybe now you can see that I'm not."
"And what is it you plan to do for him?" Lord Grantham questioned.
"He told me he would like to study medicine," Sybil replied. "I thought I would make some enquires and find out what entrance courses he needs. Perhaps he could do some of them through correspondence."
"Rory needs what he's getting now," Tom volunteered. "Decent men to act as role models, hard work and life away from Dublin."
"I see your point," Lord Grantham said. The anger had gone out of him at Tom and Sybil's words. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."
Lord Grantham got up to leave the room. He stopped at the door.
"Your mother wants to discuss your living arrangements in London. Perhaps you could come down in a few minutes to the library."
"Certainly, Papa," Sybil replied.
Tom and Sybil entered the library a short while later to find Lord Grantham and Lady Cora waiting for them.
Sybil took a seat while Tom remained standing slightly behind her. He was going to try his best to keep his mouth shut during the meeting and let Sybil do the talking.
"Your mother and I have been discussing your living arrangements," Lord Grantham said. "I am prepared to offer you the use of our house in London for as long as you desire."
Sybil gasped excitedly and looked at Tom.
"There will be a few conditions," Lord Grantham continued. "I will not be providing staff and you will need to cover the expenses of running the house yourself."
"Papa, are you certain?" Sybil asked. She was excited of the prospect of running her own house.
"Yes, you may run the house as you like. Just don't burn it to the ground," he teased.
"Tom, can we?" Sybil asked.
"I have no objection as long as we can manage it financially," Tom said. "I've told you before it doesn't matter to me the size of the house or where we live. As long as you're happy."
"There is another matter," Lord Grantham said. "I have decided to release Sybil's settlement in full."
"Oh Papa," Sybil exclaimed in excitement. She bounced out of her chair as fast as her protruding stomach would allow and hugged her father. Then kissed her mother's cheek.
Lord Grantham extended his hand to Tom.
"You've proven yourself to be a reliable husband to my daughter. I see no benefit in continued hostility."
"Thank you, sir," Tom said as he shook Lord Grantham's hand. "I'll do my best to live up to your faith in me."
"See that you do," Lord Grantham needled him.
Two days later Tom and Sybil got off the train in London. Lady Cora had ordered two food hampers from the kitchens for them to take with them to set up house. There was no way to handle the mountain of luggage other then to hire a cab. Even then they were squeezed in with the pile of items that had been sent along. When they pulled up in front of the London home of the Crawley's Tom's jaw dropped.
"Sybil, there is no way we are ever going to be able to afford to heat that," he said pointing at the house.
"Oh don't be silly," Sybil said. "We have lots of money now and besides how many rooms do we really need? We don't have to use all of them."
They headed for the door. The cab driver was busy unloading their pile of luggage onto the curb. The door opened and Lady Rosamund's butler greeted them.
"Lady Sybil. We've laid a fire in the library and dining room. Myself and two other staff are at your disposal for the day."
"Thank you Jervis," Sybil said. "For now perhaps you could assist my husband with getting our things into the house."
"Certainly, milady," he said in a deadpan tone.
"Good heavens," Tom said once the luggage was brought inside and he had a moment to look around. "We can't possibly use all this."
"I need to rest a bit," Sybil said. "Then we can go through the house and decide which rooms we would like to use and which ones will remain closed. It is furnished, which certainly cuts down on expenses."
Tom only grimaced.
By the end of the day, they had made the circuit of the house and instructed the staff sent over by Sybil's aunt to put the dust covers back on over half the furniture. When they were done, they had a front hallway, dining room, library and powder room open on the main floor, two bedrooms and a bath upstairs, as they would soon need a bedroom for the baby and only the kitchen and larder downstairs. The rest of the house would remain closed.
"I feel better about the house now," Tom said. "It's more like a normal house with oversized rooms."
"It's still going to be more work than the flat in Dublin," Sybil said.
"I don't want to touch your settlement. I hope we can managed the expenses on what I make."
"Well, we can certainly try," Sybil replied. "Don't you even want to see how much the check is for?"
"No, not particularly. We've managed this long without any help. Put it away for posterity."
"You're such a gold digger," Sybil said wrapping her arms around Tom.
"I am that," he said with a grin.
Sybil was bored out of her mind during the last two months of her pregnancy. When she wasn't stuck in bed resting, she ventured out around London on the trams. She paid a visit to two of the medical schools and got a list of courses required for admission for Rory plus some course catalogues. She sent him a large package and a letter encouraging him not to get discouraged by the requirements. As well Sybil wrote letters to Ireland and sent a note to her mother and sisters inviting them to visit in London.
Even though the house was much larger than their flat, the housework occupied only a small fraction of Sybil's time. Tom insisted on doing the heavy work even though his hours were much longer than they had been in Ireland. When Sybil's due date approached her mother announced she would be coming to London for the arrival with her ladies' maid and two other maids in tow.
"It's just a baby," Tom had complained when he heard about his mother-in-law's impending visit. "How much extra work can it be?"
Sybil was happy at the prospect of extra company to help her alleviate the boredom. The day before Lady Cora was set to arrive, Sybil was reading in the library when she felt something trickling down her leg.
"Oh no, not now," she exclaimed. She went to the main floor powder room to retrieve a towel to wipe up the mess when the first contraction hit. By the time the second one arrived less than a minute later, Sybil knew she was in trouble. Tom arrived home less than two hours later to find his wife on the floor of the library in advanced labor.
"I'll ring for the doctor," he said.
"No," Sybil cried. "Don't leave me." She had a death grip on his hand.
"Doctor or not. We're going to need some things," Tom said. He had been present when babies were born in Ireland but this was his own child and he was feeling panicked. He finally convinced Sybil to let go of him long enough to telephone the doctor and retrieve some clean towels and something to tie the cord.
By the time the doctor arrived twenty minutes later, mother and son were laying on the floor wrapped in a blanket. The baby was wrapped in a towel and Tom was busy wiping up the mess from where Sybil's water had broke. Once everyone was cleaned up, checked over and pronounced in good health, Tom got Sybil upstairs to bed and moved the cradle into their room. He went back downstairs and got himself a glass of whiskey before he began the long task of cleaning up the mess in the library.
He flopped into bed worn out with the events of the evening to be awoken two hours later by the squalls of a new born. He got up, changed the baby's diaper and took him to Sybil for feeding. While Sybil tried to get the baby to feed Tom rinsed out the diaper in the washroom, then went downstairs to find a pail to soak it. By the time he got back upstairs, Sybil was almost sobbing in frustration.
"I don't know how to do this," she wept.
"Hush now, calm down," he said. He took the baby from Sybil and dabbed the corner of clean cloth in a glass of water and gave it to the baby to suck as he's seen women back home do. The infant started sucking almost right away. He handed the baby back to Sybil slowly slipping the cloth out of the baby's mouth as the baby gradually accepted her nipple.
"Ouch, it hurts," Sybil said.
"I don't know if its supposed to hurt," Tom said ruefully. "You can ask your mother when she arrives tomorrow."
"Tom honestly, my mother would never discuss such a thing."
"We don't even have a name picked out yet."
"Maybe Ryan," Sybil suggested.
"Riordan," said Tom. "It means royal poet."
"That's lovely," Sybil said.
The infant had finished eating and was drifting back to sleep.
"He has to be burped," Tom said.
"How do you know so much about babies?" Sybil asked.
Tom had taken the baby and was gently rubbing his back.
"You've seen my collection of cousins. There are cousins on top of cousins. Someone is always having a baby."
They got the baby settled again and went back to bed, only to be woken four hours later by more crying.
By the time Tom went to the train to meet Lady Cora the next day he was worn out. He hadn't even attempted to wash all the towels from the previous night and he had to go in to watch a session of parliament in two hours.
"Lady Cora, I'm so glad you're here," Tom blurted out in greeting the minute he saw his mother-in-law.
"Tom, what's wrong?" Lady Cora asked. Her son-in-law looked terrible and she wondered if he had even shaved before coming to collect her.
"Nothing is wrong. The baby arrived last night. I'm afraid there hasn't been much time for sleep or anything else since the arrival. The house is a bit of a mess."
"How are Sybil and the baby," Lady Cora asked.
"Both fine. It's a little boy. We're calling him Riordan."
By the time they had the luggage and the maids collected they required two cabs to get everyone to the house. The maids got straight to work, lighting the fires in the downstairs rooms, preparing the lunch and starting the wash. Tom had never been so glad to see anyone.
"It's just a little baby, how much work can it be?" he mocked himself under his breath. The worst was it was only the first day.