Anna had been unable to meet Mr. Carson's gaze when he entered the room, barely acknowledging him with a meek nod. Only she and Mr. Bates knew the reasons behind the thundercloud expression that the butler wore into dinner that night. Daisy began to speak once, but a single look from Mrs. Patmore, who had never known Mr. Carson to be possessed of such rage, shushed her and the meal passed in stony silence. Even Thomas had the good sense not to inquire after the ruckus upstairs, for one and all understood that whatever had happened, their butler was in no mood to revisit it over his dinner. Nearly everyone jumped when Lady Mary rang, except Anna who had been expecting just such a summons.
As she rose from the table, Carson addressed her, "She told you then."
"Yes, Mr. Carson, before dinner."
"Very well. Go and attend to Lady Mary."
Anna did so, listening as Lady Mary shared the worst of the evening with her. Sybil's announcement had gone no better than any of them had expected, but the worst of it, from Mary's perspective, had come after her sister and the chauffeur took their leave.
"You call yourself a daughter?" Robert had raged.
"Edith knew as well, didn't you Edith?"
Edith nodded timidly, but their father had been unappeased.
"As the oldest daughter, Mary, you have a responsibility to prevent these things happening. And when you cannot prevent them, you must report them. How long have you? HOW LONG?"
"Only a couple of months," Mary lied.
"For two months you have known this and told no one. I can't believe this. One daughter running off with a chauffeur and another one – or both – as her accomplice. I can't decide which is more surprising. And to think your mother and grandmother wanted me to fight the entail for your benefit. If you weren't already leaving Downton this summer, I would have a mind to throw you out."
He had stormed from the room them, leaving behind a trail of open mouths from Lavinia to Carson. Mary had attempted to defend herself before her mother and grandmother, but they were no keener to listen than her father had been.
"I am very disappointed in you, Mary. Very," Cora managed before excusing herself.
The others had followed quickly behind and Mary and Edith retreated to their rooms. What galled Mary the most was that he was right, he was, and she had no excuse for why she hadn't spoken out. True, these past two months she had been silenced by Sybil's threat to reveal all about Mr. Pamuk, but what if she had approached her father instead of Sybil the day she found them arguing by the garage? Her anger continued to grow. She was angry with Branson above all, but she had no small amount of anger for Sybil, or for Edith who simply sat there while their father placed the blame on her. And how dare he? She was mad at her father, too.
Above all, she was angry that Sybil dared to chuck it all and lead the life she wanted when she, Mary, had paid desperately for her one misstep. There it was. The deepest anger, she realized, was directed at herself for agreeing to marry that insipid Sir Richard Carlisle and for lacking her sister's courage to live life on her own terms. That realization was as though the sun parted the clouds and she gasped at the clarity of her thoughts.
"It will be alright, milady. I'm sure he didn't mean it." Anna was still comforting her over the words of her father, but Mary had moved into far more dangerous territory.
"No, Anna, no, it won't be alright. It will never be alright because I'm to marry the dreadful Sir Richard and there's nothing to be done to change that."
There was little Anna could say or do once she realized the new direction her mistress's thought had taken so she did as she had done so many times before in the midst of Lady Mary's crises: she stood behind her and placed both hands on Lady Mary's quietly heaving shoulders and simply watched as the tears and the heartaches traced silvery tracks the length of her ladyship's cheeks.
Dinner ended earlier than usual in the servants hall, with most of the staff retreating to the quiet – and safety – of their rooms.
"What do you suppose was the shouting?" Daisy asked Mrs. Patmore as they cleared away the last of the meal.
"I shouldn't like to guess, and I shouldn't like Mr. Carson to hear me trying to guess," Mrs. Patmore responded. "If we need to know, we'll know soon enough."
Some would know sooner than others, though, and as Mrs. Patmore and Daisy set to work on the next day's bread, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sat down with a cup of wine in his sitting room.
"Was it really so bad as that, Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Hughes asked to break the ice.
"It was worse than that, Mrs. Hughes. I can hardly bring myself to speak of it."
They sat quietly for a moment before she continued. "His lordship could be heard shouting from the servants' hall. I imagined it must be something terrible."
"Mrs. Hughes, would you believe it if I told you that Lady Sybil summoned Mr. Branson to the drawing room to announce to everyone present that she intends to leave Downton and to marry him? Think of it! Lady Sybil married to a chauffeur."
"It is rather unusual."
"Unusual? Unusual? Do you hear yourself? It's not unusual. It's preposterous. It's unimaginable. Why these things simply are not done. "
"Do you think she cares for him?"
"Well I should say so, not that I think that matters. She is a lady. I'm afraid perhaps they were too soft with her, being their last and all."
"Would you have preferred her to be like Lady Mary, distant, unhappy, and dragging a dark secret on a chain about her neck until it's enough to kill her?"
"I should have preferred Lady Sybil to marry a gentleman, Mrs. Hughes. That is all."
"Well I'll grant you that it is most irregular, but Mr. Branson is a nice lad. I'll miss him when he's gone. You did dismiss him, I assume?"
"It was hardly necessary. He's lucky he escaped the drawing room with his life."
That sat quietly another moment, Mr. Carson contemplating how such a scandal could have befallen his beloved Downton Abbey.
"What I can't understand, Mrs. Hughes, is how no one knew. You would think someone would have to know."
"Perhaps there were those who had their suspicions but didn't want to say anything. And then it was too late."
Mr. Carson nearly choked on his wine.
"Mrs. Hughes, are you implying that anyone on my staff may have believed Lady Sybil and Mr. Branson were conducting an inappropriate relationship and said nothing of it?"
"I am saying, Mr. Carson, that life is full of surprises. Just look at poor Ethel."
"Yes, I dare say Anna must have known. I shall ask her tomorrow and if that's true then I shall dismiss her in the morning."
"And break Lady Mary's heart a second time? I think not. No, you'll do no such thing. And you'll have to dismiss me before you dismiss Anna."
"Mrs. Hughes. Do you mean to tell me you suspected Lady Sybil and Mr. Branson yet said nothing to his lordship or myself? You should think before you respond. His lordship is liable to dismiss you as well in that case."
"All I will say, Mr. Carson, is that I have eyes and ears like anyone. For some that is enough."
She hated to upset him but really, he must stop going about life with these blinders on.
"I apologize, Mr. Carson. This has been a difficult evening. Perhaps you'll feel better in the morning. Good night."
From the drawing room, Tom and Sybil had fled outdoors where they had roamed the gardens and grounds aimlessly, for once saying very little. Each one's mind alternately raced and stalled, reliving the confrontation in the drawing room and thinking of what lay ahead. Tom was seized by one thought, which whirled and twisted through his mind until it had forced out any other thought that tried to enter: how could he have ever doubted that Sybil Crawley loved him?
Now the hour had grown late and the early spring air had more than a hint of chill to it.
"Will you be alright tonight, Tom?" she asked as they prepared to part.
"I imagine I'll sleep better than his lordship."
"And tomorrow?"
"I'll hand in my notice at breakfast and take a room at the Grantham Arms first thing."
"In that case, I imagine the entire village will know before luncheon."
"Do you mind?"
"Not at all. It was so tiresome to keep such a secret all this time. Why I imagine I'll sleep more soundly than I have in ages."
"I hope you do. Good night, milady."
He bent forward and kissed her.
"I'll wait for you at the Grantham Arms. Come when you're able."
"Good night, Tom."
He returned for the last time to his small cottage. He lay in the bed, but sleep would not come. He was haunted that night by visions of the past six years as the last years of his life slowly replayed themselves in this mind. The last image, the one that was frozen in his mind, was the way she had looked at him in the drawing room. He had almost pinched himself at that moment, as confirmation that this was his life and not a dream.
The house was entirely silent when she entered, which was perhaps more frightening than if they had been waiting for her, tempers flaring and fingers pointing. Nevertheless, it was as she had hoped it would be and she slept more soundly than she had in many months. When at last she awoke, the clear, strong rays of an April sun streamed through her windows. She considered dressing for breakfast, but decided she could not face them again, not this early. The next fight would come soon enough and she wished to conserve her strength. Hesitantly at first, then stronger, she pulled the cord for Anna.
"Well if it isn't a chauffeur's wife ringing for the help," Thomas said under his breath, then stopped when he measured the depth of Mr. Carson's anger in his eyes.
"THOMAS! I said silence," Mr. Carson boomed
"Let me prepare a tray for you, Anna," Thomas said instead, eager to excuse himself from Carson.
A moment later the maid appeared at Sybil's door bearing a breakfast tray.
"He's left, milady."
Sybil nodded.
"He told me he would give notice at breakfast this morning. Was Mr. Carson very angry?"
However Mr. Carson had thought the staff might learn of last night's crisis, he had never imagined that Mr. Branson might appear in the servants' hall bearing word of this treason himself. It had been lucky for Anna that Mr. Carson hadn't overheard her offering regrets that the evening had been so difficult for him; Mr. Carson was quite certain it hadn't been difficult enough.
Once the chauffeur left the hall and Mr. Carson had decreed silence as the order of the day, half a dozen pairs of eyes had turned toward Anna, who nodded curtly to acknowledge that, yes, in fact, what Mr. Branson said was true. The truth be told, Sybil's breakfast bell had been a relief, for Anna knew as soon as she returned to the hall the same sets of eyes would be upon her rimmed with unasked questions.
"Mr. Carson is very angry, Lady Sybil."
"I fear he may be as angry as papa."
"Lady Mary told me about his lordship, milady."
"He was rather dreadful, Anna. But I suppose no more than I expected."
"It may not be my place to say, Lady Sybil, but I think perhaps you should have a word with Lady Mary. His lordship was especially angry with her after you left."
Sybil did not have a word with Mary, however, but instead dressed for a walk to town. Officially her purpose was to see Dr. Clarkson in the hopes that he might provide her with a letter attesting to her skill as a nurse at his hospital. Unofficially, she wanted to test whether, in fact, the entire village was aware of the scandal she had caused and also to see Cousin Isobel. Undoubtedly, Matthew and Lavinia had informed her of the scene in the drawing room but Sybil felt Isobel also ought to hear from her directly.
Dr. Clarkson had been none too eager to proffer the letter Sybil requested but eventually he agreed, revealing that he, at least, knew of her plans as he did so.
"I am not keen to provide you with the letter you require, Nurse Crawley, but as I imagine some Dublin hospital will be desperate enough to hire you with or without my testimonial, I see nothing to gain in withholding it."
"Thank you, Dr. Clarkson."
"Good day, Nurse Crawley."
From the hospital it was only a short walk to Cousin Isobel's, where Mr. Molesley was also clearly enlightened as to the circumstances of her visit.
"Mrs. Crawley will be glad to see you, Lady Sybil. She's been fretting over you all morning."
He showed her into the drawing room.
"Lady Sybil! It's a fine surprise to see you this morning."
"Thank you, Cousin Isobel. I've come…well, I imagine you know why I've come."
"Matthew and Lavinia told me your news when they returned last night. I imagine I'll be the first to offer congratulations."
"Thank you, Isobel. You are the first, and quite probably the last!"
"Do you really believe so, my dear?"
"I am afraid the answer is yes. But this is what I want in my life and I shall not be deterred."
"And what of life after you're married?"
Over a cup of tea, Sybil shared her plans with Cousin Isobel. If the older woman wasn't entirely enthusiastic, it was owing to her concern for Sybil moving to a place where fighting was imminent and with a husband whose new profession would put him in the line of danger, and not any hesitation that the daughter of an earl should marry a chauffeur.
"I must be on my way, Isobel. Will you join us for dinner this evening?"
"Yes, thank you. Matthew and Lavinia will also dine at Downton tonight, I believe. Is that alright?"
"I shall be grateful for any friendly face around the table!" Sybil laughed as she said this and Isobel was reminded, not for the first time, why she liked this spirited young woman so much.
Sybil hurried home, bursting through the back doors and bounding toward her room with an eye to speaking to Mary. It was not to be, for as she opened the door to her bedroom, she found her father. He was gazing out the window, but at the sound of the door he turned on his heels to face her.
"Lady Sybil, might I have a word?"
So this would be round two.