Sybil might have known that it would be her grandmother and not her mother to whom she would ultimately answer for her behavior at the ball. Yet when several days had passed without further reprimand, she began to believe she might be in the clear. And then the summons arrived: she was to have tea with her grandmother, alone. The only saving grace, she thought, as her mother delivered the news, was that at least she would ride to the Dowager House with Tom.
The night before tea, Sybil paid a visit to the garage, slipping past Mrs. Hughes in an act of rather bold defiance. In the weeks since Mary and Edith had swooped into the Swan Inn, it had become harder to hide her intentions and plans. It was not, therefore, overconfidence that allowed Sybil to pass by the housekeeper without so much as a second glance, as it was a lack of concern. Where once she might have denied everything, now she would almost welcome the opportunity to admit her relationship with Tom.
Tom looked up upon hearing the garage door and smiled.
"I received a letter from my mother, Sybil."
"Is it good news?"
"I think you should read it," he said, holding the letter toward her.
Dear Tom:
You are correct that your news comes as quite a shock and I cannot say that I understand. I believe you when you write that Lady Sybil loves you as you love her, but it is my stronger belief that you are both young and very foolish. You will face many obstacles, no small reason that these things are not done. I assume from what you did not say that her family will not accept you. Your welcome here will not be much warmer, but I will open my home and heart to her as best I can. I hope you are both prepared to meet the challenges before you. I have shared that you will sail for Ireland this spring with an English bride. I have told no one that she is a lady.
Your loving mam
Sybil read it twice. Folding it carefully into the envelope, she noticed her hand was shaking.
"So that's what she think, is it?"
She moved toward him and allowed him to wrap her into his arms. They stood that way for a moment before he looked down and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"It could have been worse, Sybil. As it is, you'll be able to live with her while the banns are read."
"I hoped she might have been happier for us. I, I don't know what I expected, I suppose. I see that I shall be almost no better accepted in Ireland than you would be here."
Tom sighed. This was not the letter he had wished for, but it was the one he expected.
"When shall we sail, Sybil?"
"Either as soon as you receive an offer or the first week in April."
"So tomorrow or a month from tomorrow?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
"Yes. I'll tell my family as soon as you have news of a job or in late March. Before I face their wrath over our marriage, though, I must first face my grandmother at tea tomorrow. She's quite displeased with my behavior at the ball. Undoubtedly that means she's had a letter from some dreadful friend or cousin denouncing me. Has Anna asked you to drive me tomorrow?"
"She has, yes."
"Good night, Tom. Oh, before I forget, Mrs. Hughes spotted me on my way to the garage. I'm afraid you may get a good tongue lashing tomorrow. I believe she, too, is quite displeased with me."
On both of these accounts Sybil was correct. Mrs. Hughes had not hesitated to reprimand him, issuing a curt, "Mr. Branson, I would like to speak with you in my office, please" as soon as he appeared at breakfast.
With the door closed she had delivered a lecture to remember.
"There are rules, Mr. Branson. For some time you had Lady Sybil have chosen to flaunt these rules as though they applied to all but you. Such behavior cannot be allowed to continue. What would we come to if the entire world ceased to maintain their proper place? It is not appropriate and I shall be forced to report you to Mr. Carson the next time I witness such a flagrant disrespect for your position."
"With all respect, Mrs. Hughes," Tom replied, "I believe the improper behavior you speak of was on the part of Lady Sybil and not myself. Shall I bar the door to the garage that none but myself should enter?"
It was a daring and risky thing to say, something that might certainly be classified as "flagrant disrespect," but he could not help himself. After all, he had been in the garage last night; her argument was with Sybil and not with him.
"Mr. Branson, if you're not careful, his lordship will bar the garage himself, and you'll not be inside of it when he does it."
He opened his mouth to speak, and then decided against it. The glint in his eye, the hesitation, the very way he stood before her told Mrs. Hughes everything she needed to know. He would be leaving, no doubt with Lady Sybil. She wouldn't have been able to say, if asked, how she divined this, but she knew it as certainly as she knew trouble was brewing between the chauffeur and Lady Sybil on the eve of the war. She wished she could go backwards and deal with them more firmly those years ago.
The opportunity was long past, however, so she simply dropped both her eyes and her voice and said gently, "I have liked you very much, Mr. Branson. I shall be sorry when you leave."
The drive to the Dowager House was a short one, just long enough for Tom to relay to Sybil his conversation with Mrs. Hughes.
"You really must be more careful, Sybil," he scolded her, perhaps more harshly than he intended.
"What would you have me do? Shall I simply never see you until the time comes to leave for Dublin?"
The only aspect of the afternoon she had been looking forward to was her time with Tom and now he had scolded her, too. They rode the rest of the distance in a stony silence. She was in a fine humor, then, by the time she stood before her grandmother for tea.
"There's no need to look so angry yet, my dear, you haven't even heard my proposal."
Proposal? Sybil expected a good tongue lashing but not any sort of proposal. Sybil raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth.
"No. Sit down, Sybil, and let me speak."
Wearily, Sybil did as instructed.
"Now, I don't know what they taught you at that nursing college, but ever since Cousin Isobel put it in your head to become a nurse…"
"Cousin Isobel didn't put anything in my head, granny!"
"There's no need to be defensive, Sybil. As I was saying, ever since Cousin Isobel put it in your head to become a nurse, you've had nothing but fanciful ideas. You suggested, if I recall, that if it were up to you, we might have even received enlisted men to convalesce at Downton Abbey. Imagine! We all thought the war was responsible for these strange notions of yours, Sybil, dear, but we see now that we were mistaken."
Sybil began to protest, but was silenced by the hammering of her grandmother's cane against the carpet.
"You have spoken quite enough, Sybil. Now you will listen. When your mother told me that you spoke at the ball of continuing to work as a nurse, I thought she misheard. But now I've received letters, Sybil, not one but several from acquaintances who have also heard that you said you intend to work as a nurse. Now, dear, the last time I received such dreadful correspondence was when Mary…well, we needn't discuss that again. At the time I assumed such rumors were entirely unfounded, but of course they weren't. This time I have no doubt: of course you spoke such preposterous words. One scandal in the family is quite enough. Now, dear, you can't believe that I will allow you to create a second. I've spoken with your parents and we have decided the best thing to do will be for you to go to London. You can stay with your Aunt Rosamund and meet all the best people. There will be no time for nursing or that dreadful canvassing you practiced before the war. You will behave as a society lady and you will return with at least one proposal of marriage."
Sybil was overwhelmed by everything she had heard. London? Marriage proposals? Oh dear God, she thought, I should have simply followed Edith's advice and danced with those dull men and sent them on their way.
"And am I to leave for London tomorrow, granny?"
"Don't be dramatic, Sybil dear. There's no need to hurry. You can leave in a month. You'll be more likely to find a husband in a summer dress than a winter one."
Sybil nodded and absently sipped her tea. One month.
Tom pulled a grim face when she told him of her grandmother's "proposal" on the return drive to Downton.
"I'll write my mother that we'll arrive within the month. Shall I post my response directly or would you like to include a letter of introduction?"
"I think I should write her, Tom, don't you?"
He nodded. His mother thought them young and foolish; it would be all the better if she did not add discourteous to that list as well.
Unlike the letter Sybil struggled to write her own family, this one came more easily,
Dear Mrs. Branson,
Tom has told me much about you over the years and I look forward to at last making your acquaintance when we will finally meet next month. I have loved Tom for many years and we look forward to being married as soon as practical after our arrival in Dublin. Until that is possible, I am grateful to know that I may depend upon your hospitality. I worked as a nurse during the war and hope to obtain a position as a nurse shortly after arriving. I will strive to make myself useful and not to be a burden upon you.
Sybil Crawley
As she finished the letter she heard a light knock at her door and Mary appeared.
"Did you have a nice afternoon with granny, Sybil?"
"Mary, it was awful. They'll all agreed that I'm to leave for London within the month!"
"I can't imagine what you were thinking telling anyone who would listen that you planned to work as a nurse, Sybil."
"Only that I'm tired of everyone thinking a young woman is merely an ornament, like a pretty trinket you might set upon a shelf. We can have other dreams."
"That's simply not how the world is, Sybil."
"Then we must make is so."
"There will be a lot of powerful men against you, but nothing I can say about this or anything else will change your mind once it is set. So I'll simply wish you best luck in building this new world. Now, will you be joining us for dinner this evening?"
Sybil nodded.
"In that case, I'll send Anna to help you change. I don't know how the people in your fantasyland dress, but here we still dress for dinner."
Sybil had been so intent on writing her letter to Mrs. Branson that she did not hear the dinner gong. As she readied for dinner, so much physically a part of this old world, she allowed her mind to focus on the new world she hoped to find – or create – in Ireland.
"I'll never dress for dinner again, Anna, once Tom and I have left here."
"Never say never, milady; it's a strange world and you can't know that future will hold."
The immediate future at least held more of the same as Sybil went through the motions in one life while preparing for the next. Had the rest of the family not been preoccupied with the preparations for the Matthew and Lavinia's wedding, and directed what time and attention remained toward Mary's wedding to Sir Richard later that summer, they may have noticed that Sybil was increasingly disengaged from conversations, from them, and from life. Sybil did her best to require the car for any number of reasons or to find an excuse to visit the grounds, but whenever a day did pass that Sybil was unable to speak with or even see Tom, it only furthered her resolve that the only life she wanted was one with him.
March passed without further word from Dublin and as April dawned Sybil prepared to tell her family that she was leaving for Ireland with no prospects. And then it happened: a letter arrived bearing the offer of a job for Tom at one of Dublin's most esteemed papers. He told her as they drove to town and she clapped excitedly before throwing her arms around his neck from behind him.
"Careful, milady, or you'll send us off the road," he said cheerily, regaining control of the car and stealing a look over his shoulder.
"We'll tell them tonight, Tom. It's only a week until Matthew's wedding, so we'll stay until then and sail for Dublin a day later. When are you to begin?"
"I'm to start as soon as possible and no later than the first of May."
He paused.
"Did you say we will tell them tonight?"
"Of course. I don't think I could face them without you and also they need to see we're in this together. You can come to the drawing room after dinner."
He had not planned for this. Perhaps it was terribly unfair to Sybil, but he had thought she would tell them one evening and then he'd manage to slip away without so much as a sideways look at his lordship. After all, the last time they tried this she'd left only a note.
Receiving no response, Sybil inquired, "You don't mind, do you, that we should tell them together?"
"I have to admit it's a bit of shock, Sybil. I figured you would tell them yourself and then we'd be on our way. But if you'd like me by your side, then that's where you'll find me."
"Yes, please. But I'll do most of the talking. You won't have to say anything, just give me a bit of courage if I need it."
"And after we tell them, what then?"
"What do you mean what then?"
"Sybil, I'm certain no matter what else transpires this evening, I will no longer be in your father's employ come tomorrow. Yet, you've said you don't wish to sail for another week."
"I hadn't given much thought to that, honestly. I suppose you could take a room at the Grantham Arms."
She dispatched with her errands quickly; they were not much and had mostly been an excuse to use the car and see Tom. As they returned to the house, they settled the last details of time and place. As he helped her from the car he held her hand in his slightly longer than necessary, and was surprised to hear Mr. Carson's deep baritone call toward them.
"Lady Sybil, is everything quite alright or do you need further assistance?"
It was time for him to return to the garage and once more to pack all of his worldly possessions into trunks, sweep the floors, and give a last shine to the cars he had tended so beautifully for the past six years.
As he completed these tasks, Sybil called together her sisters, for whom there could be no doubt of the meaning of this summons. With Anna rounding out the quartet, Sybil gave them advance notice, as she promised Mary she would, of the bombshell she would drop in just a few hours' time. Unsurprisingly they made one last attempt to convince her otherwise, but when that failed they filed toward dinner wearing the grim expressions of a man on his way to the gallows. As Sybil pulled her bedroom door closed behind her, Anna reached for her arm.
"I think you're very brave, milady. Good luck."
Returning to the servants' hall, she sought Mrs. Hughes.
"Mrs. Hughes, Lady Mary requested I order the car for her tonight. She says she'll need it early tomorrow."
"Very well, Anna. While you're at the garage, please ask Mr. Branson whether he will be joining us for dinner tonight."
"I don't believe so, Mrs. Hughes, but I'll ask."
Anna turned and walked through the door before she could see the quizzical look upon Mrs. Hughes's face. The housekeeper found it strange that Anna should have any idea what Mr. Branson planned for dinner; perhaps she would ask about this later.
"Mr. Branson, are you here?"
"I am, Anna. How can I help you?"
"I thought you could use some company. The hours must seem very long."
"Aye, you've that right. So she's told you then?"
"Yes, and Lady Mary and Lady Edith, as well. She said you're to come to the drawing room after dinner. She did tell you how to find the drawing room, I hope."
"Yes, it's just here." He pulled from his pocket a small piece of paper where Sybil's neat hand had written directions to the room.
Anna nodded. "Yes, she's done that very well for you."
"I'm going to miss you, Mr. Branson. You've been a very good friend to me as long as you've worked here."
"Thank you, Anna. I'll miss the staff…well, most of the staff. I hope one day people will forgive us."
"I shouldn't count on Thomas or O'Brien for that, but I imagine the rest will come around, even Mr. Carson eventually. Mr. Bates and I think very highly of you and Sybil. We wanted you to know that."
They sat quietly for a moment, reflecting on the vagaries of a life in service, and of life generally.
"I should be going now, Mr. Branson. Mrs. Hughes will wonder what's happened to me. Will you be alright this evening?"
He laughed. "I suppose that depends on whether his lordship kills me in the drawing room within the next hour."
"Good luck, Mr. Branson."
Anna returned to the hall for what she knew would be a very long night. Not only did she imagine that their dinner would be late while Mr. Carson witnessed the carnage – literal or figurative – in the drawing room, but she knew she would be lucky to swallow a few mouthfuls of her own meal before Lady Sybil – or Lady Mary, or both – rang for her. She picked up her mending, but abandoned it quickly. The clock sounded and Anna said a quick prayer, not for Lady Sybil or Mr. Branson or even Lady Mary, but for all of them. Whatever she thought of the world and its rules, she knew that by the time the chimes were quiet the world upstairs would be a changed place.