A/N: Thank you so very much for all the reviews, etc., for the last chapter. To receive double digit reviews for one chapter is just so awesome! Makes me smile from ear to ear. Thank you to those who reviewed the story for the first time. Your thoughts are much appreciated. I hope that you will choose to review again. :)

Thank you also to those who pointed out that there wasn't enough love chat/endearments between Sybil and Tom in the last chapter. Constructive criticisms always welcome! Please see the review I added to the previous chapter for more details. Normally, I don't like to 'review' my own work, but since it was reviewers without a sign-in ID who brought this up, I can't PM them with my thoughts and I wanted to make sure that I addressed the concerns properly. :) FWIW, I reply, where possible, to each review I receive to thank the reviewer.

As always, many thanks to my ever patient betas, Tripp3235 and mswainwright, without whom, the quality of this story would be much poorer indeed!

Disclaimer: Not mine. All Downton Abbey characters belong to Julian Fellowes and ITV. I'm just playing with them.

Chapter 18

The following afternoon found them looking for the location of the flat that Tom's mother had found for them, two streets away from her home. She had given Sybil the advice to start the negotiations at three-quarters the asking price since the flat had been empty for the last year. She had also suggested that they agree to sign a contract for a year at the price to sweeten the deal. In discussions with Tom on this strategy, they determined that with the funds he had saved up, if they could get the flat for three-quarters asking, then they could afford to take possession on May 1st in order to have the home ready for occupancy after they married.

Tom pointed to the door between two stores and said, "I bet that's the door."

"I believe you're right," said Sybil as she walked to the door and opened it. "Your mother said that it was on the third floor in the back, but to knock on Flat B on the ground floor."

"Well at least the shared hallways and steps are kept up," said Tom as they looked for Flat B. "That's a good sign."

"I still wonder why it's been empty for a year," said Sybil as she looked at the interior of the building.

"Knowing Cousin Fergus, he is asking too much for it," said Tom.

When they find Flat B on the ground floor, Tom knocked and an older man in a vest and tie answered, "Yes, what did you want?"

"Cousin Fergus, it's Tom Branson." Tom smiled at the man.

"Tom, my boy, I didn't recognize you," said Fergus as he squinted a little to see Tom better. "So you're looking for a flat for when you get married."

"Yes, this is my fiancée, Sybil Crawley," said Tom as he gestured at Sybil.

"How do you do?" asked Sybil, smiling.

Fergus nodded, smiled and said, "It's on the third floor in the back. This way."

They climb the steps and the apartment is in the back as described. On the door is the flat number 3D.

As they walked toward it, Fergus turned to them and said, "It's a two bedroom, one bath. It comes with a stove, running water, and there's a working fireplace. The coal cellar is in the basement."

When Fergus opened the door, they saw the walls were white and clean. "The place was repainted after the last tenants left. It's south-facing so the sun warms it in the winter."

As they walked in, there was a kitchen area to the left and a small area for coats on the right. Behind that was a small bedroom with no windows to the outside, though it had a window-sized opening with glass bricks to let the light in. On the left after the kitchen was a small windowless bathroom and the main bedroom that had a large window looking out into the alleyway was just beyond. The remaining area was a room approximately ten feet by fourteen feet with the fireplace as the centrepiece of the far wall with windows on either side. There was room for some chairs and a sofa in front of the fireplace and enough room for a table in the corner by the second bedroom. It was dusty in the flat, but that was not surprising if it had been empty for a year.

Tom and Sybil looked at one another and Tom gave Sybil an imperceptible nod. This was the perfect place for them to start their married life. Sybil asked, "How much are you asking?"

"£9 a month," said Fergus as he looked at them. "This is a good neighbourhood."

"It may be a good neighbourhood," said Sybil. "But we heard that this flat has been empty for a year now. We'd be willing to sign a six month contract and pay three months upfront, if we pay £6 a month." They had agreed on the way to see it that Sybil do the bargaining as she had a head for detail. "With it empty, you've been collecting £0 thus far."

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss," said Fergus as he scratched his head. "However, as you're family, sign a year long contract, pay three months upfront, and I'll give you £6 10s a month."

"Done," said Sybil with a triumphant smile. "We'll take possession on May 1st."

"Let's head downstairs and sign the contract over tea," said Fergus.


After they signed the contract on their new home and paid three months rent upfront, Tom and Sybil were walking hand-in-hand down the street to a haberdashery, excited that they now have a place to live after the wedding. Sybil asked as she looked at Tom, "Do you think that we could afford to paint the flat walls before we move in?"

"If we do it ourselves or with a little help from family, I'm sure that we can," said Tom as he returned her look. "Why? Don't you like stark white?"

Sybil gave Tom a look at first and when she realized that he was teasing, she smiled and said, "I was thinking that before we fill it with furniture, it would be ideal to paint it in the colours that we like."

"What colours did you have in mind?" asked Tom, returning her smile.

Sybil looked in the distance to gather her thoughts and said, "I was thinking that we could paint the bathroom in a light yellow colour to brighten it up since there are no windows, perhaps a lovely light green in the main bedroom to remind me of the summers at Downton, maybe a light blue in the main room so that when the winter sun hits, it won't be blinding and perhaps a yellow in the the kitchen area to brighten it since it is so far from the windows."

"That sounds like a lovely colour combination," said Tom, thankful for Sybil who thought of these things. "What about the small bedroom?"

"I'm not quite sure what we can use the small bedroom for yet," said Sybil. "Since it only has a few glass blocks to let light in from the main room and no windows to the outside, I can't imagine for what we could use it. Do you have something in mind?"

"What about a yellow since it has no outside windows?" suggested Tom. When Sybil remained silent, Tom continued, "I originally thought that we could use it as a spare bedroom for now. I suppose eventually, it will be our children's bedroom presuming that we are still living there when they arrive, but the thing is do we need a spare bedroom? Most of my family are here and I can't imagine that if your family were to visit that they would consider using it."

"No, you're right," said Sybil as furrowed her brow in thought. "Until the children arrive, we should probably consider a better use for it. The thought of Mary staying there during a visit is rather funny though."

"You know that we can leave it empty for the time being," said Tom thinking aloud. "There's no need to furnish the entire flat at once."

"I suppose you're right," said Sybil after considering what Tom said. "We will need so much as is. We need to find ourselves a bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, some chairs or a sofa, a dining table, some chairs for the table, a pantry, a Welsh dresser for the dishes (though I suppose we could store them in the pantry for the time being), and a work table for the kitchen. We will also need curtains at least in the bedroom."

"We will also have to arrange for milk delivery and coal delivery," said Tom as he looked at Sybil. "I hope you don't mind that we do the rest ourselves for now. Until we are both settled in our jobs, it wouldn't be prudent to live beyond our means."

"No, of course not," said Sybil as she smiled lovingly at him. "There is already so much to be spent on furnishing our home that I don't mind doing some of the work ourselves. It's enough for now that we will be married and have a home of our own. A home of our own. I do like the sound of that."

"As do I." said Tom as he returned her look of love. "As do I."


As they entered into the haberdashery, they could see the shop assistant behind the counter was busy with another customer so they looked around as they waited. When the other customer finished with her purchase, Sybil walked up the counter. The shop assistant then asked, "Good afternoon, how may I help you?"

"Good afternoon, I'm looking for some ladies handkerchiefs." Sybil smiled as she looked at the woman behind the counter.

"Of course," said the woman as she brings out two for Sybil to choose from. "Here is our selection."

Looking at them, Sybil noticed that they were rather poor quality, which was surprising since the rest of the shop appeared to be of better quality than what she was seeing in front of her. "Would you have anything of a finer quality?"

"No, I'm afraid not," said the shop assistant rather abruptly.

At this juncture, Tom arrived at the counter to look, suspicious of the situation. Seeing the poor quality of the handkerchiefs, he asked, "Are you sure that there isn't something of better quality?"

The woman then said, "Let me look in the back."

When she returned with several other handkerchiefs of premium quality, she said, "I completely forgot about these. Are these closer to what you had in mind?"

Tom looked at Sybil and then back at the woman and said rather curtly, "Thank you for your time."

As they exited, the shop assistant called out to them, "Do come again."

Once they were out of the shop, Tom said in a controlled fury, "Not bloody likely. Pardon my language."

"What just happened in there?" asks Sybil a little bewildered as she hurried after him.

"Something that I was afraid might happen," said Tom as his expression darkened. "They do not wish to serve those with an English accent and hence we will not be darkening the door of that establishment again."

"How did you know?" asked Sybil still a little confused.

"Didn't you see?" asked Tom as he stopped them. "When you spoke to her first, she took out the worse of her wares and then when you ask if there was anything better, she said no until I stepped in. Used to happen to me when I first got to Yorkshire, but was rarely this blatant. I'm sorry you had to endure it."

"Don't worry," said Sybil with a smile. "I'm made of sterner stuff. I'm sure there are other haberdashers would would love to take money from an English woman."

"I'm sure," said Tom with a rueful smile. I don't think that I can love this woman more.

"Let's look for another haberdasher," said Sybil as she returned his smile. "I'm sure there are others on this street."


Tom and Sybil worked out a budget that evening for the next several months based on the money they currently had. They designated the money they received from the Dowager Countess for the bedroom and hence they would be able to afford a very nice bedroom set as well as nicer linens. They then spent the next couple of days doing a bit of window shopping to get a sense of the cost of items such as linens and furniture and looking for a ring to no avail, the rings they saw were either too plain for Tom's tastes or they were significantly outside his budget.

They asked Connor and Cathleen to help with painting the flat and it was agreed that they would do it on the first Saturday in May, which gave Tom and Sybil some time to pick the paint colours. When Mrs. Branson heard about this, she told them that she and Cathleen would go over there the Friday night before to do a thorough scrubbing first. "No point in painting a dirty flat."

The Thursday evening post brought two offers for Tom's article on the Treaty in Versaille and the Common Worker. One offered £2 and left future publication rights with Tom while the other offered £5 but it included future publication rights. After some discussion with Sybil, Tom decided to wait a week before accepting the £5 offer in case there were other offers on the way.

Friday morning, Sybil received two letters from home. One from her mother and the other from Edith. She was a little surprised that she didn't receive anything from Mary. Her mother's told her that the family would be traveling to Ireland the week before expecting to arrive in Dublin on Wednesday, May 28th and staying until the day after the wedding. Arrangements had already been made for them to stay at the Gladstone Hotel. Her mother also mentioned that they would be bringing gifts from various family members who would be unable to attend including a set of dishes from Aunt Rosamund. When Sybil told Tom, he wondered aloud about the type of gifts that could adorn their home as he had helped carry some of the wedding presents that had arrived for Mr. Matthew's wedding.

Sybil did smile that her mother had been willing to go on with the charade of leaving her title off the envelope and had placed Edith's letter therein. Sybil dearly hoped that they would be willing to do the same at the wedding and at the celebrations afterward. She didn't like deceit, but there was no point in rubbing other people's noses in it and bringing trouble upon themselves. The experience at the haberdashery had been eye opening.

Edith's letter told her about Mama's plans to bring young men to the house after the period of mourning ended, which was to coincide with their trip to Ireland for Sybil's wedding and how much she was already dreading it. That last part broke Sybil's heart. She never realized until then how lucky she was being the youngest and how the war had allowed her to follow her heart.

When time came for Tom to go to his interview that afternoon, Sybil offered to walk him to the newspaper office and wait for him to be done in the stores nearby. If he was going to work there, Sybil wanted to know where it was and it would give her some opportunity to explore a little of Dublin on her own.

As they were about to part ways at the door, Sybil gave Tom's hand a quick squeeze, kissed him on the cheek and said with a smile, "Good luck. I'll see you here at three."

Tom returned her smile and said, "Thank you. I'll see you then."

When Tom introduced himself to the receptionist, he was shown into Mr. Connolly's office. Mr. Connolly was a rather stout, balding middle-aged man in a rumpled suit who sat behind his desk smoking a cigar. When the receptionist told Mr. Connolly who Tom was, he shook Tom's hand and said, "Thank you, Miss O'Donnell."

After Miss O'Donnell left, Mr. Connolly gestured for Tom to sit and said, "Mr. Branson, thank you for coming in to see me today. I was quite impressed with the article you published in Free Nation last September. I had read it several months before and remember thinking that it was rather unfortunate that you lived in Yorkshire."

"Thank you, Mr. Connolly," said Tom as he fidgeted with the cap he held in his hands. "I think my experiences in Yorkshire gives me the ability to put some distance from the troubles here and thus provide a perspective that is unique. Since arriving in Dublin, I see how things have changed. There is now a burning desire to be our own nation that drives the violence I've been reading about since I landed last week."

"Yes, the level of civility has descended significantly in recent years, which is why I was enamored of your article," said Mr. Connolly as he shuffled papers on his desk as he puffed on his cigar, stopping occasionally to drop ash on the ashtray nearby. "It reminded us that violence is not the only means of resistance. The position I'm offering is that of a weekly column on current events and for you to write an in-depth opinion piece on one of those incidents of your choice. You'll have the daily at your disposal as well as editors, fact checkers and reporters who report the news."

"What day of the week would the column be published?" asked Tom.

"I was thinking of starting it on Tuesdays and see how it worked out," said Mr. Connolly as he stopped what he was doing and looked at Tom. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm planning to get married on the fifth of June, which is a Thursday," said Tom. "I just didn't want to miss a column."

"Well, if you plan it out and submit a column for the following Tuesday before you go, I'd be fine with that," said Mr. Connolly. "It'll give you some time off after your wedding."

"That's very kind," said Tom. No employer had offered him more than a day or two here or there before.

"It's got nothing to do with kindness, my boy," says Mr. Connolly with a hearty laugh. "It has more to do with ensuring that I have a column to publish. So long as I have a column to publish on the right date that sells more papers, I don't care what hours you keep, though the office is officially open from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon and officially staffed during those hours. That reminds me. Do you know how to use a typewriter?"

"I'm afraid not, but I'm sure that I can learn quickly," said Tom.

"See Miss O'Donnell on your way out," said Mr. Connolly as he went back to shuffling papers on his desk. "She can send you home with a portable one and a book to get your started. We don't want to waste time with trying to read handwriting, so all those who contribute articles are required to type them up. Practicing is the most important thing."

"Of course, Mr. Connolly," said Tom. "On the matter of wages ..."

"Ah yes," said Mr. Connolly as he looked up at Tom. "It's a salaried position I'm offering. £300 per year to start and I expect you to produce 52 columns a year. There will be a substantial quarterly bonus if we can determine that your column has raised circulation of the paper. I'd like to start the first column the first week of May. Can you start Monday?"

"Absolutely," said Tom with enthusiasm.

"Good. Good," said Mr. Connolly as he rose from behind the desk with a stack of paper. "Let me take you around to meet the rest of the staff."


While Tom was interviewing at the paper, Sybil took her time to wander the shops nearby. Mrs. Branson was to take her food shopping again the following week, but Sybil wanted to test the waters after the incident at the haberdashery the other day. So she wandered into a stationers to pick up more note paper and a new bottle of ink.

Looking around at various samples on display, Sybil waited until she was approached by the shop assistant behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, Miss," said the young man behind the counter. "How may I help you?"

"Good afternoon," said Sybil, smiling at the shop assistant. "I was looking at that note paper and was wondering how much it was?"

"Two and six for a package of twenty-four," said the shop assistant.

"What about a small bottle of blue ink?"

"One and eight."

Since both were within the price range she had seen in Yorkshire, Sybil smiled and said, "Excellent. I will take one of each, please."

"Very well, Miss," said the man behind the counter.

Sybil then handed over the money to the shop assistant and took her package and received change.

"Thank you very much. Do come again." The shop assistant smiled at her.

Sybil nodded before exiting the shop. Well, at least not everyone is against an English woman.

Sybil then proceeded to window shop until it was time to get back to the newspaper office.


When Tom came out of the newspaper offices with a large, heavy box in his hands a little after three o'clock, Sybil looked at him puzzled.

"It's a typewriter," said Tom. "I have to learn to use it."

"So you got the job!" said Sybil excitedly as she smiled broadly at Tom.

"Yes, you're looking at one of the weekly columnists at The Dublin Times starting Monday," said Tom with more than a little pride.

"That's wonderful," said Sybil as she gives him a kiss on the cheek. "I knew you could do it."

"What's even better is that it pays more than we ever expected," said Tom with a smile. "£300 a year with a possibility of a bonus if my column raises circulation."

"£300 a year plus a possible bonus! I can hardly believe it," said Sybil as she placed hand over her mouth. "What are the hours?"

"Eight to five," said Tom as he looked at Sybil happily as he carried the heavy case. "Though when I mentioned that we were getting married in June and Mr. Connolly said that if I could have a column ready for the following week, then I could get time off for the wedding."

"I'm beginning to like Mr. Connolly," said Sybil with a spring in her step.

"Don't like him so much yet," said Tom as they walked down the street side by side as his hands were full. "He did mention that he didn't care about the hours I keep so long as I had a column for him every Tuesday. That may mean that I will have to work more hours, but at least I have a use in mind for the second bedroom now."

"Does this mean we'll be looking for a desk, chair and lamp now?" asked Sybil with a twinkle in her eye.

"Indeed it does," said Tom with a smile and they walked happily back to his mother's flat.

A/N2: Things are falling into place. They have a flat and Tom got the job. It's unfortunate that Sybil had, as one of my betas called it, a brush with prejudice, but it was something that occurred more often in those days and she did find that not everyone tarred her with the same brush. I hope that the love chat balance is a little better, though again, not a lot of opportunity with these scenes. Please feel free to point out typos and grammatical errors. Sometimes no matter how hard you or your betas look, these things get missed (especially those pesky verb tenses with which I have so much trouble). As always, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter good or bad, so please do review. :)