A/N I: Ah, apparently I haven't posted since the series finale in the U.S. Officially, This fic is 90% cannon friendly and the 10% is mostly timing changes and differences- shouldn't affect your enjoyment of the story!
A/N II: You'll notice the random switching between referring to Thomas as "Thomas" and as "Barrow," not just in this chapter, but in the ones that follow as well. This story has been a WIP since the end of season 3 when Thomas was still Thomas on the show, but in later seasons he's been referred to as "Barrow" and that has seeped into the fic. I realize it, but I think it adds a dimension to show Thomas' identity switching back and forth, in crisis.
1928 (Sybbie is about 8 and Georgie is about 7)
"I think cricket's like anything else. When you learn it as a child, there's an understanding that's hard to come by later."- Mosely, season 3 ep 8
"But Georgie gets to!" Thomas walked into the dining room for breakfast in the middle of a heated discussion between Lord Grantham, Tom, and Sybbie.
"Georgie doesn't get to go calling with Mary, or go to needlework class- and you don't play cricket." Lord Grantham said firmly.
"Papa-"
"Sybbie, you'll not argue with your grandfather. Now, I believe you have a riding lesson this morning, I know you'll enjoy that," Tom replied calmly.
"Yes, papa." Sybbie reluctantly got out of her chair and gave her grandfather, then her father, a dutiful kiss. As she left, her eyes fell to Barrow.
Once the door shut behind Sybbie and Thomas moved to clear her plate, the conversation continued between the two men.
"Robert, I really don't know why she can't play," Tom addressed his father in law.
"You just told Sybbie you agreed with me!"
"No, I told her not to argue with you."
"If only you'd apply the same principle to yourself."
"Sybil would have wanted her to play."
Grantham scoffed.
"She would have been proud of Sybbie for knowing her mind and going after it, even if it was something meant for boys."
"Meant for boys, precisely! Sybbie could get hurt playing. The sport isn't meant for ladies."
"Sybbie's not a lady."
"Women then," Grantham said with an eyeroll. "Barrow!" he called to Thomas, "You're a fine cricket player, what do you think? Can women play?"
"Women, m'lord, or Miss Branson?" Thomas replied.
Tom raised his eyebrows with a smirk.
"Women in general, Barrow, and Miss Branson specifically," Grantham replied, ignoring his son in law.
Thomas had to choose his words carefully. "Miss Branson demonstrates a great deal of athleticism, m'lord. As her father and grandfather, you of course know what is best and wisest for her health and happiness."
"See there, Barrow agrees with me!" Grantham enthused.
"Barrow gave you a careful and diplomatic reply as a man under your employ. You can expect nothing more for putting him in such a position." Branson replied, then returned to his meal.
Barrow slipped out with Sybbie's plates before Grantham could corner him for his "honest" opinion.
"Barrow!" Sybbie jumped out at him as he left the dining hall.
Thomas straightened against the wall, holding the tray so Sybbie and he could talk but no one could see them. "Miss Branson?"
"Teach me to play cricket, okay? Meet me in the field right before tea."
Thomas whirled around to respond to the request, but Miss Branson had taken off running down the hall. She knew Barrow would be obliged to at least meet her, and then she could convince him.
Barrow was obliged to meet her, but it wasn't easy, and he wasn't happy.
Sybbie dragged a bat behind her and carried a ball.
"Miss Branson," Barrow greeted her without emotion. She dropped a ball at his feet.
They were silent. Birds chipped as if for effect.
"Please, Barrow," is all Sybbie said.
He sighed. "Let's start with the rules. It won't matter how well you bat if you're running around like a chimpanzee."
Sybbie giggled at the thought. "I know all the rules already, Barrow!" She then proceeded to recite to Thomas, in good detail, on positions and innings, outs and fouls, even strategy.
Barrow was shocked at first, but it turned to worry as Sybbie continued on. When she finally stopped, she looked at him for approval. "Well, I think you have that covered, Miss Branson," he paused, "Did you learn all that from Mr. Mosely, by chance?"
Sybbie nodded.
"Did Mr. Mosely try to teach you to hit as well?"
Sybbie nodded again.
"Splendid," Thomas said, hoping the child wouldn't pick up on his sarcasm.
After a few weeks it was clear Sybbie wasn't picking up the skills from Barrow as fast as she picked up the rules from Mosely.
"ARRRGGH!" Sybbie let out a frustrated cry when she swung and missed Barrow's easy throw for what felt like the millionth time. She threw her bat down with force. "This game is stupid! Barrow, you are throwing the ball wrong."
"You know that's not true, Miss Branson." Thomas replied calmly. He patted his pockets and smiled when he found a rogue cigarette tucked there. No candy for Miss Sybil, but she was too old for that trick now.
Sybbie pouted. Thomas sighed. The girl had been blessed with intelligence and wit and talent for many things. She usually picked up skills- horse riding, French, bike riding- very quickly. Cricket seemed to be the exception.
Thomas knelt to her level, puffing his cigarette. "You can't always get exactly what you want, Miss Branson."
"I know."
"And even when you do get what you want, it doesn't turn out the way you think it will most of the time."
"I know!"
Thomas wasn't sure she really understood, but perhaps she was going to have to learn the hard way. He had to learn the hard way. A couple of dozen times.
Thomas got up and reached for Miss Branson's hand. "Let's go for a walk, Miss Branson. We need a break."
Sybbie was suspicious, but obliged him.
They walked in silence far too long for Sybbie's gregarious personality. Barrow seemed to savor every moment and view, but Sybbie, who had freely roamed and explored the grounds daily since early childhood, was bored.
Finally, Barrow spoke. "Lady Sybil," he told her, "would have been so surprised at the world today. So much had changed even in the 8 years since she died. You know what would have surprised her the most?"
"No, tell me, Barrow."
"This family. This family has changed so much. Eight years ago your papa was not accepted at all. You already knew that, so don't act like it is some scandalous secret. This family has grown and changed so much. Your mama started that. She wanted to learn to cook. She wanted to wear trousers! She wanted to vote and have a career. Now, look- Lady Edith writes and Lady Mary runs the estate. Unfathomable a decade ago, but your mama paved the way by starting as a nurse."
Sybbie thought about this, but didn't really know what it had to do with cricket.
"My point, Miss Branson, is you don't have to excel to make change. Lady Sybil failed miserably at cooking! You should have seen it.
You don't have to impress them with your incredible cricket abilities to prove that you can and you should do everything that your cousin or any other boy does. All you have to do is show them you can play and no amount of insults or teasing is going to stop you from playing. No matter who tells you that you can't play because you are a girl, that won't stop you. That will start the change, Miss Branson, but it's not going to happen overnight. The village sees you playing and maybe a few years from now they will let one of their daughters or wives play. You will pave the way. This is the power of being born into the Crawley family, and don't you forget it."
Sybbie thought about this for a moment. "You mean, just by playing I will show them? I don't have to be the best or hit a home run?"
"That's right, Miss Branson. Do you want to go practice now?"
Sybbie thought about that for a moment as well, then shook her head and slowly smiled. "Tag! You're it, Barrow!" She touched him gently on the sleeve and took off running. Barrow laughed and ran after her, happy to see Lady Sybil's carefree little girl back.
The day of the annual cricket game arrived, and it just so happened that the house team had exactly the right amount of players to form a team, with no one to spare.
Lord Grantham called the men to huddle in from their fielding practice. Barrow had been helping Master George with his fielding and were the furthest pair out. George took off running as fast as the wind and Thomas spotted his opportunity.
If I can have my hand shot to get me out of battle, surely I can trip and fall to get a motherless little girl to have her dream come true.
So Barrow tripped, and legitimately twisted his ankle.
Grantham refused to believe that Barrow was injured and kept him on the roster. Barrow whispered to the hall boy who got the (perfectly decent, thank you very much) governess to spirit Sybbie away for the quickest change of clothes. They came out just as it was Thomas' turn in the lineup.
Grantham batted right before Barrow and struck out. Dejected, he turned to the under-butler with hope, "It's your turn."
Thomas cleared his throat, "I got a replacement, m'lord, because of my ankle."
"A replacement?! There are no replacements to be had, we have every single able bodied man eligible on the team already."
"I found someone. I've coached them and Mosely taught the rules. She's not going to be perfect, but she'll do."
"She?!" Grantham's face was red hot but it turned at the sound of the bat hitting the ball. Barrow watched too and cheered, "Yes! Yes! Way to go!" louder than anyone, and full on screamed, "Hurrah!" when Sybbie slid- yes slid- into the base.
"Who IS that?" Carson asked.
"Miss Branson." Thomas said with a smile.
"Miss Branson?!" his boss and his employer asked incredulously.
"Yes, Miss Branson just got a base hit."
Grantham stared incredulously for a moment, then started laughing. He'd picked up this trick from his mother. Sometimes, she said, when the world doesn't make sense anymore, you just laugh it off and wait for the Lord to explain Himself at the pearly gates.
"I guess," Lord Grantham said as his laughter died down, "perfectly able bodied men can get injured playing a sport and little girls play with gusto and are as healthy as ever."
"Your lordship is wise," Thomas replied. From across the field he saw her wink, and Thomas smiled and winked in return.
And so it came to pass, some 10 years after Lady Sybil had planted the seed of women's rights in her father's mind, fruit began to bear, thanks to her daughter.
Earlier that year, Lady Mary insisted that George and Sybbie were old enough to start partaking in dinner with the family. Not when there were guests, but when it was just the family, so they could learn.
This night was the first night the children were allowed to sit with the Dowager present. She gave a startled snort when she saw them in the room before "going in", but made no comment.
"I think we should have lots of girls on our team!" Georgie declared. He had a great time at the game, although not performing very well. Barrow would have to work with him next year.
"Well, I don't know about that." Lord Grantham protested.
Mary scoffed. "Oh, come now Papa, Sybbie's as tough as nails. She won't get hurt. Nor will any other girl more than any other boy."
"I quite agree," Edith said.
Lord Grantham was dubious, but knew if Mary AND Edith agreed on something, he would probably lose. "What about the other team?" he protested, "it won't be fair to them! They'll be trying to avoid hurting her and won't be able to concentrate, or play well."
"What if we got permission from the opposing team's captain?" Mary asked with a sly look that her father missed, but Barrow caught.
"Well, I suppose, but…. Clarkson has stepped down after this year. Who will be the captain of the village team?"
The entire table now had a sly look that even Lord Grantham couldn't miss. All eyes were pointing towards Lady Grantham.
"The village team always wins." Lady Grantham said.
