The final installment is up and the twelve days of Christmas are over! As always, this chapter was written for and is dedicated to JessieBess.
Downton Abbey, 1920
It was the first snow of the year, and Sybil wanted to treasure this sight. Having been brought up in England and then having lived in Dublin had made her value snow as something unique, which was granted only on special occasions in an almost magical way.
At that moment she was looking from the nursery window at twirling snowflakes that were courageously resisting gravity, which wanted to bring them to the ground, before eventually giving in and joining their predecessors on a frost-covered earth.
The young Mrs. Branson had just finished feeding Sybbie and was trying to lull the little one to sleep. Sybbie had caught a flu a week earlier; at that moment the hardest time was thankfully behind them, and the little girl was almost fully recovered.
Sybil heard a knock on the door and looked around to see who it was. As she suspected, it was her husband, who wore an anxious expression on his face .
"How is she?" he asked worriedly.
Sybil gave him a faint smile. "You know that she's all right now. But I understood why are you so nervous... so am I. After all, it's her first illness..."
"Exactly, my darling. I still can't comprehend how beautiful she is," Tom smiled tenderly and reached out to stroke Sybbie's small clump of hair.
Sybil stayed silent; she only gave her beloved one more smile, this time more radiant and less anxious.
There was another knock on the door. The Bransons immediately assumed that it was their daughter's new nanny.
Truth be told, they hadn't wanted to hire a nanny at all and had won the battle just to hear Lord Grantham bring the idea back when Sybbie had got ill. They had had more important things to worry about then than to quarrel with Sybil's father for yet another time and an additional pair of hands to take care of a sick baby hadn't been really a bad idea, so they had ultimately surrendered.
However, when Sybbie had begun to feel better, the Bransons had wished to dismiss the nanny, but had felt uncomfortable about depriving the poor woman of her work after such a short time, especially since she was a hard worker and was very good with Sybbie. Finally, they had decided for a compromise and kept her on more as a part-time help; sometimes she was free of her duties even without Lord Grantham's knowledge. Sybil and Tom hoped that Mary would get pregnant soon (and she and Matthew really kept trying, so it was practically certain to happen sooner than later), which would release them of the need to provide employment to Miss Henderson themselves.
But it wasn't Miss Henderson this time. The person who stood in the doorway was Cora Crawley, and the expression on her face informed the young parents that something clearly troubled her.
"Sybil, Tom, I'm afraid that you've forgotten that we're attending the Cartrights' Christmas party tonight. I talked to Miss Henderson downstairs and she was completely unaware that she would have to stay alone with Sybbie tonight."
Both of the Bransons looked at each other nervously.
"Mama... yes, we've forgotten," Sybil began ,"so many things happened in the last few days... we obviously had other things on our minds..."
"I understand," Cora interjected, "but now that I've reminded you of this engagement, can't you begin preparing for the dinner? Miss Henderson will be here in a moment, I informed her about everything..."
"NO!" Sybil and Tom exclaimed in unison.
"Mama, you must understand us - Sybbie is still recovering from flu, and we just can't leave her."
Lady Grantham's gave a small sigh. "I do understand you. I'm a mother myself, after all. But Sybbie is in no danger now and Miss Henderson always take care of her very well. It's an important event for you - your first appearance as guests in one of our friends' houses after your wedding. It's a big thing that the Cartrights invited you... As such, it's important to your Papa, and I'm afraid that he may find you both overprotective."
It was Tom's turn to speak. "Lady Grantham..."
"Cora."
"Cora... I 'm sure that I'm speaking for both of us here... It's our first Christmas as a family and with our little Sybbie, so we would really wish not to be separated on this day, and Sybbie's recent illness makes us even more insistent on that score."
"Mama, I agree with everything that Tom said," Sybil quickly supported her husband.
Cora sighed again. "Again, I understand. But I don't want any tensions between your father and you two again. He'll not understand this. He will tell you that Sybbie doesn't know that you're here anyway. I'm afraid that children do not exist for him properly until they are able to answer back."
Sybil and Tom looked at each other briefly and nodded in mutual understanding. "We'll risk Papa being grumpy. And it's our final decision."
It was so deliciously quiet; a silent night indeed. The snow stopped falling, and the nature's winter painting was complete. Sybil and Tom sat on the sofa in the nursery, embraced, and relished in watching Sybbie breathe healthily in a sound sleep. It was such a relief that the two of them couldn't remember when they had been happier.
Sybil was the first one to break the silence. "I know that it's silly, but I keep thinking that I wouldn't mind to spend all of our future Christmases this way. I've been thinking about the time when Sybbie grows up, and this scares me for a reason I cannot name. I want her to be safe, healthy and happy, and I worry everyday that something may go wrong."
Tom took her hands in his. "Me too. She looks so helpless right now... but I know for sure that with you as her mother she'll grow into a strong woman who will face all the challenges bravely... and that's most important, isn't it?"
His wife nodded contemplatively. "God willing, she'll have luck on her side."
"That's something we can't predict, but we may give her a good start into the future."
Sybil suddenly tensed. "Tom, if you allude to your job or lack thereof again... It doesn't make you any less of a husband or a father. Your support and love is what counts most."
Tom chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I know, love. You've told me that multiple times, and I do agree with you. But there's something that you must know..."
Tom didn't want to admit it, but he began to feel quite depressed and hopeless. Frankly, his two precious women were the only things that kept him from wallowing in despair. He was unemployed for six months, living on his in-laws' money at the house that symbolised everything that he was against, and on that day yet another visit to London proved fruitless. And it was all his fault. It was already December, and soon he would enter New Year without a job, without his own home and, worst of all, without any prospects of changing his situation. Last year he had been happy - he and Sybil had been expecting their first child, they had had led an independent life in Ireland and he had had a job that maybe hadn't brought him a lot of money, but at least a sense of satisfaction and an ability to do something important.
He sipped his coffee, which to him tasted more like a tonic water even though he had put a lot of sugar into it. In his sour mood, he even noted sadly that there was still no snow that year. Damn it.
"Can I sit with you for a moment?" Tom suddenly heard a female voice.
He looked up from his cup and noticed a red-haired woman in a green cloak, who smiled at him in a familiar manner.
"Oh my goodness! Gwen! I haven't seen you for..."
"Six years, I know," replied his long-time-no-see friend.
"Of course you can sit with me! Nothing will make me happier than this at the moment," Tom invited her without a delay.
They chatted for a bit about everything that had happened in their lives since they parted in 1914. They were both acquainted with basic facts due to Sybil and Gwen's correspondence, but it was nice to exchange the details as well. Tom didn't even hide from Gwen his current frustrations and difficulties concerned with his job search.
"Tom, you've always been such a talented man. There must be an opening for you somewhere... actually... I think that there may someone that you should contact. You know that I've started working for the government recently, and there is one man from a paper that comes to us quite often. They want to be a political newspaper, but they've been only recently established. It won't be a lot of money in the beginning, but I think they have potential. They're not located in Yorkshire, though; their office is here at London, I think."
Tom's eyes lit up with a small glimmer of hope. He knew that he shouldn't get excited, but every opportunity seemed to him like a faint promise of something new. "Sybil and I don't mind moving to London, Gwen. Can you get me in touch me with this man?"
Sybil 's eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "And why do you tell me about this today? Do you have any good news?"
Tom looked lovingly at his wife, whose whole person looked as if she had been inwardly bouncing with excitement. Thank goodness that he didn't have to disappoint her!
"Yes, darling. I've got a job. I didn't tell you before because I hoped to present this piece of news to you today as one of your Christmas gifts. Now we can look for a flat to rent and plan our new life together."
The young woman's eyes welled up with tears of joy. "I can't express how happy this makes , Tom. Of course I want to move out of my parents' house, but I'm also tremendeously happy that you can follow your dreams again."
"And who would we be without dreams?" Tom asked merrily as he took his wife in his arms again and kissed her passionately on the mouth.
When they parted, the Irishman unexpectly rose from the sofa and approached a chest of drawers that stood in the corner of the nursery. He opened one of the drawers and took out of it a bottle of champagne and a small cardboard box.
"I knew that we would spend Christmas here with Sybbie, so I allowed myself to make some small preparations..."
"Champagne I get, even though it's more a New Year's Eve type of drink, but what's in this box?"
"A gift from Gwen," Tom informed his wife gleefully. "Open it."
With those words, Tom handed the package to Sybil, who immediately removed the cover. Inside were... gingerbread cookies, based on the same recipe that Gwen had sent her friend a year ago!
"She gave me this when I met her at the cafe. She made several boxes for her friends, she didn't have one prepared for us because she didn't expect to meet us anytime soon... but when we bumped into each other in London, she decided that she couldn't pass such an opportunity... don't worry, she assured me that she would make one more later, so no one got shafted."
Sybil looked at the box in her hands silently, deeply lost in thoughts. "Do you remember?" she enquired quietly after some time.
Tom didn't have to ask what she meant. He simply knew. "Yes. We ate gingerbread cookies together during our first Christmas together."
Sybil reached out for his hand affectionaly. "And look, Tom, how far we've got. Tell me that dreams do not come true."
"It wasn't easy though, love. Even after we got married, there was this horrible war, and my banishment, and your hard labour, and my latest lack of job..."
The young Mrs. Branson pressed his hand even harder, firmly but lovingly. "What counts is that we've faced these challenges together and we still do. We can look forward to the future hopefully, and this is the only thing that matters."
Tom took Sybil's hand into his and pressed an adoring kiss to her hand, and Sybil's understood that he fully agreed with her sentiments.
Their tender moment was interrupted by a loud cry coming from the crib. Sybbie had awoken and demanded her parents' attention.
Both Sybil and Tom approached the crib, and Tom gently handed his little princess to his wife. Once safe and warm in her mother's arms, Sybbie calmed down and only looked at her parents with curious eyes. Tom observed his women for a moment before strong feelings overwhelmed him and he moved to gently embrace both of them.
"I love you both and I'll never leave you," Sybil and Tom said at almost exactly the same moment.
And outside the snow began to fall again, thus promising that its presence was not just a swiftly passing gift.
(..) Lest, blurring with old moonlight of romance
The landscape of our blemishes, we try
To set up shop on Goodwin Sands,
That we, though lovers, may love soberly,
O Fate, O Felix Osculum, to us
Remain nocturnal and mysterious:
Preserve us from presumption and delay;
O hold us to the voluntary way.
W.H. Auden, In Sickness and in Health