A/N: Sorry this is a day late. Had a busy Sunday and then this site decided to upgrade the story editing features when I was ready. :P

Thank you for all the reviews, etc., for the last chapter. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank those who have continually reviewed most, if not all, the chapters for the last little while: JuliaAurelia, shana_dot_rose (this site won't let me put the reviewer's name in properly), readingfrenzy, Duchess, and Candy. Thanks for making me smile when I get a review alert from this site. You don't know what that means to me.

I want to especially thank my wonderful betas: Tripp3235, mswainwright (in absentia for this chapter due to her busy schedule)and _livingfree (on Twitter) (currently in absentia for the latter half of this chapter due to midterms until after Wed). Without these wonderful people, who listen to me gripe and have the patience to slog through chapter after chapter despite their busy lives, the quality of every aspect 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 26

When the sun started streaming through the windows in the main room the next morning, Tom couldn't help but wake up. The first thing he noticed was the throbbing headache and a faint feeling of nausea. Then he noticed that the flat was still quiet, which was surprising since his niece always woke at the crack of dawn. As he opened his eyes, the sunlight was overly bright and he realized that he wasn't at Ciaran's but at his mother's. Then he started remembering what had happened.

Looking around, he spotted the bottle of Aspirin on the coffee table and the note Sybil left. The clock on the mantle read half-past six. When he sat up on the sofa, he read the note about the Aspirin. After using the bathroom, Tom got himself a glass of water from the kettle, cracked a couple of eggs into it and beat it together with a fork. He then used the mixture to chase a couple of tablets of Aspirin down.

Afterward, he added coal from the coal box, before he refilled the kettle and put it on the stove. Tom then walked over to the sofa and sat down. It had been years since he got so rip-roaring drunk and he did not remember getting such a headache in his younger days. Likely the last time was when he was just about to leave Ireland for Yorkshire as Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes both actively discouraged overindulgence of strong drink among the staff.

Once the eggs and the Aspirins started to work their magic, Tom made himself some tea and waited for the water to cool for another glass. Getting the milk from the front door, he poured some into his tea before putting it away in its spot in the pantry. He sipped his hot beverage until the world seemed less chaotic and blurry than last night. He then realized that he will have to get ready for church later that morning which meant strolling into Ciaran's at this late hour (or perhaps at this early hour as the sun was already up) and changing. He could already hear Aileen's comments. His mother never let him be absent from church after a night of carousing when he lived at home and after the way he acted last night, he doubted that Sybil would let him off either.

When he was done with his tea, Tom got dressed before he tidied up the sofa by folding the blanket and putting it under the pillow. He then went to get couple of pieces of paper and wrote one apology note to his mother, Cathleen and Connor, and another to Sybil. He then folded and addressed them and left them on the coffee table under the bottle of Aspirin. After washing and drying his dirty dishes, he left for Ciaran's.


When Sybil awoke, it seemed later than usual. Looking at the clock on the nightstand between the two beds, it was half-past eight. Cathleen was still sleeping, but Sybil noticed in the time she'd been sharing a room, Cathleen needed more sleep than she did. She could hear someone in the kitchen and assumed it was Mrs. Branson because Tom couldn't possibly be awake yet.

Thinking about what had happened last night, she was still angry with Tom for his behaviour. He should have known better than to become as inebriated as that. But the piteous look on his face when he had pouted and asked if she loved him had tugged at her heart. Still she shouldn't let him get away with it. She then resolved to change and get ready for the day. After all, they still had church to attend.

When Sybil exited the bedroom fully dressed with her toiletry kit, Cathleen was just getting up. She noticed that the sofa was empty and the bedding was gone. When Mrs. Branson noticed Sybil, she said, "He left about an hour ago, even before I got up. There's a note for you. I presume it's an apology like the one he wrote to Cathleen, Connor and me. He'll be here to pick you up for church at half past ten."

"Thank you," said Sybil. "I'll look at the note after I've used the bathroom."

When Sybil had finished getting ready for the morning, she had her apron on and was ready to help get breakfast on the table. Once she set the table, Mrs. Branson suggested she read the note from Tom, so she sat on one of the sofa chairs to read it.

My Dearest Sybil,

I want to apologize for my behaviour last night. Of what I remember, I was loud, boorish and demanding. I should know better than to behave like that toward anyone, most of all you. I know that I have put you through a few difficult trials these last few weeks in Dublin and I am sorry to have caused you any pain. I promised to devote every waking minute to your happiness and I failed you. I'm sorry. I hope that you can forgive my most recent transgressions and I shall endeavour to be a better husband to you than I have been a fiancé. Thank you for looking after me in my inebriated state last night and pandering to my requests, I do not deserve you.

I love you with all my heart,
Tom

P.S. I will be by at half-past ten to pick you up for our church service.

After reading the note, Sybil felt less angry with him. He was obviously contrite, but being contrite is one thing; repeating unacceptable behaviour was quite another. Once they had the opportunity, Sybil would make sure to address this.


Eleven o'clock that morning found Tom and Sybil at Pastor Whelan's service. After yet another thought provoking sermon on life everlasting, the Pastor came up to them afterward. "If you want to wait in my office while I see the other parishioners off, I think I have a solution to one of our problems."

"We can wait," said Tom. "Thank you Pastor Whelan."

The Pastor nodded and moved off to talk to other parishioners.

Tom and Sybil then walked hand in hand toward the Pastor's office. Tom had apologized again when he arrived at Mrs. Branson's at half-past ten dressed for church, but Sybil hadn't been in the mood to discuss what happened yet on the ride to the church.

"Just think," said Tom as he looked at Sybil as they are walking through the church. "Next week the first banns will be read and we'll be married less than three weeks after that." Tom was in a jubilant mood. It was as if nothing had happened last night.

His mood infectious, Sybil couldn't help but smile at him. "I can't wait."

Tom said, "I can't either." Tom then stopped them, looked around before pulling Sybil closer and leaned in for a kiss.

The next thing they know, someone was clearing their throat. Tom and Sybil pulled apart quickly both blushing furiously as Pastor Whelan said with a smile, "Come this way so we can talk in private."

Tom regained control of his senses faster and followed the pastor while dragging Sybil behind him. Sybil finally regained her composure when she sat down in front of the pastor's desk.

After the pastor sat down, he pulled a notebook out and opened some pages. "I was speaking with one of the parishioners who is a solicitor and has done some legal work for the church in the past and he said that your title, Nurse Crawley, is technically a courtesy title because your father is an Earl. As such, you are legally still a commoner and that technically we can leave it off the banns, if we choose to."

Sybil looked at Pastor Whelan and said, "And we choose to."

"Very well. There's still the issue of your father's occupation."

Tom spoke up at this point. "I think I have a solution to that." He turned to Sybil. "Wasn't he a colonel in some regiment in the Great War?"

"Yes, he was the Colonel of the North Riding Volunteers. Could we use that instead in the banns?"

Pastor Whelan looked at the pair in front of him. "Unlike his service in the Boer War, this is a more recent occupation and given that the ceasefire had only been called six months ago, as a matter of fact, six months ago today, we could use that instead, calling his occupation retired colonel of the North Riding Volunteers."

"That's wonderful," said Sybil. "I'm glad we are only sharing specific details about my family, rather than outright lying."

"The only reason I'm agreeing to this is for the greater good, your safety," said Pastor Whelan. "I would not have done this for any other reason."

"Thank you, Pastor," said Tom. "We appreciate your creativity. Here is the £2 we owe you as a deposit." Tom handed the Pastor two £1 notes as payment.

"Thank you," said Pastor Whelan, writing out a quick receipt for the money before he put it away carefully in the cash box.

"Is there anything else?" asked Tom.

Pastor Whelan shook his head. "See you both at next Sunday's service where we'll read the first banns."

Tom nodded at the pastor and they both got up and Sybil said on her way out, "See you next Sunday."


As it was raining, Sybil and Tom took their lunch at their favorite public house near their church. They looked for a place in a quiet corner away from the other lunch patrons so they could talk freely. After the barmaid took their order, Tom took matters into his hands before Sybil thought to discuss the subject of his behaviour last night.

Tom reached to take her hands across the table. "I'm sorry about how I acted last night. You should know that I haven't drank to excess like that since before I came to Yorkshire."

Sybil looked at her hands in his and then at him. "Since I've been in Dublin, sometimes I feel as if you're a different person. As if being here, you've somehow reverted to being Dublin Tom rather than the Downton Tom I'm familiar with. I know that when you worked at Downton for my family, there were certain codes of acceptable behaviour that Carson and Mrs. Hughes inspired. I thought perhaps because you lived by those codes of behaviour at Downton that it was how you behaved naturally. Obviously, I was wrong." As she was now angry again with him, Sybil slipped her hands out of his.

"You're not being very fair now, Sybil," said Tom, his temper rising. "I've gone out drinking with my friends several times this past week and I did not become so inebriated until last night when my friends wanted to take me out for a night of carousing before we married."

"How is it then that your mother didn't seem surprised by your behaviour?" asked Sybil, remembering how Mrs. Branson reacted last night. "She knew not to argue with you and seemed to be aware of the remedy for the after effects of strong drink."

"My mother is Irish," said Tom with a laugh. "Every Irishman drinks to excess at least once in their lives. Ciaran did it for years and as far as I'm aware, he still does occasionally. I remember my father once drank excessively when I was about eight or nine and my mother was so angry at him she refused to speak to him for a week. I'm sure that her father did, too."

"Perhaps I should refuse to speak to you for a week for your behaviour then?" suggested Sybil, who was exasperated with Tom.

"You could do that," said Tom, suddenly ebullient. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't speak to you, while you didn't speak to me."

Sybil, still angry, looked at him puzzled but said nothing.

Tom smiled at her. "For example, I could tell you how beautiful you are when you're angry and how much I love the scowl you're wearing now, or I could tell you how much I love and appreciate all that you've done to fit into a life in Dublin with me, or that I've been dreaming of a life with you almost since the day I started at Downton, and there's nothing you can say back because you're not speaking to me."

Sybil couldn't help but blush at all the lovely things Tom was saying.

Tom, seeing her reaction, just continued on when she didn't speak. "I could also tell you how every time I see you, I just want to kiss every part of you and that I dream of you every night and in some of my dreams you are an angel who deems me worthy of loving you, while in others, you are a seductress and you want me to love you in every way possible."

"All right," said Sybil to keep him from saying more of these things in public. She was already blushing furiously and she knew that if she didn't give in Tom would just get more outrageous until she begged him to stop. "Obviously, not speaking to you is not an option."

"It is if you don't mind me speaking my mind," said Tom with a smile.

"Seriously though, Tom," said Sybil. "Excessive drink is not acceptable to me. Thank goodness, you did this before we married because I didn't know what to do and let your mother take the lead. If you had done this after we married, you might have had to spend the night sleeping on the floor of our entrance way because if you couldn't get yourself to bed or the sofa, I wouldn't have been physically able to carry you there on my own. I don't have an issue with drinking. My family drinks four or five wines with dinner alone, but I do have an issue with excessive drinking, so if you can curb that for me, I will be happy."

Tom took Sybil's hands into his and looked into her eyes. "Sybil, my love, you needn't worry about my excessive drinking. Like I said earlier, I haven't done this since before I arrived in Yorkshire and I realized this morning that I am much too old to be doing this at all. The headache this morning was much worse than I remember. Thank goodness for the Aspirin or I would have been a miserable lout today. Yet another thing I should thank you for."

"Shall we talk of more pleasant things?" asked Sybil, smiling at him.

"We can talk of whatever you wish," said Tom.

At this juncture, their order arrived and they spoke of what else was required for their flat before they were married for the remainder of the meal.


On Monday morning, a number of parcels arrived for Sybil and Tom with the morning post. Mrs. Branson had suggested that they use her home address since Tom was only sleeping at their flat until after the wedding. As well, a letter from the publisher of Tom's article also arrived, which Sybil put aside. Mrs. Branson was doing an initial test fitting of Sybil's wedding dress when they spoke of it.

Sybil stood still as Mrs. Branson put pins into where the remaining seams should go. "What should I do? Should I open them? Should I wait for Tom to open them? Should I wait until after the wedding to open them with Tom?"

"What does your family do?" asked Mrs. Branson while she checked the length of the skirt and the train.

"We set out the gifts in a room for display prior to the wedding and between the wedding and the wedding breakfast, guests are encouraged to view them." Sybil looked down at the beautiful dress. She never imagined being married in something this lovely. It rivaled some of Madame Swann's finest creations.

"Well, as you're marrying and holding the wedding breakfast at the church, I'm not sure where we could display the gifts and I'm not sure whether there's a point in bringing them there for a few hours only to bring them to your flat after the wedding," said Mrs. Branson as she looked at how the skirt fell from the bodice. "However, it might be a good idea to open the gifts ahead of time so that you know what you have and what you need. You should probably also draw up a list of what you received from whom to make it easier to write thank yous later. When Mairin married, she received about two hundred gifts. After the first twenty, we decided to start writing things down. Also you may wish to discuss with Tom whether he cares to be present when you open them. Kevin didn't care, but Ciaran did."

Sybil nodded. "I'll set them aside then until I speak to Tom this evening. If this is any indication of the number of gifts we will receive, I agree that we should open them and draw up a list. Once we record who sent what gift, I think I should make a daily trip to bring as many of them to the flat as possible. I wouldn't want to clutter up your home."

"It's no bother, Sybil dear," said Mrs. Branson with a smile while she admired her handiwork on Sybil. "Remember this flat held over two hundred gifts for Mairin's wedding. You can probably ask Kevin to bring the lorry by when we have a good load and cart it over there."

"I wouldn't want to put Kevin out again since he's already borrowing the lorry for us on Saturday," said Sybil while she admired the basic framework of the wedding dress.

"Why don't you ask Kevin to bring the first load on Saturday while he has it?" asked Mrs. Branson. "That should clear up some room, if you're worried."

"That's a good idea," said Sybil. "Where should I put them now?"

"There's a small table in my room that I put my bowl of scents on," said Mrs. Branson. "If you move the bowl onto my dresser, you can bring it out here and put it beside the curio cabinet in the corner."

"I can do that after we're done here. Thank you."

"Oh, I forgot to mention earlier," said Mrs. Branson as she pinned more of the wedding dress together. "We'll need to go to find some silk tulle at a decent price for a veil this afternoon. Turns out I don't have enough for a full one so we'll have to go look."

"Of course," said Sybil.

Mrs. Branson continued fit the dress on Sybil for the next half hour.

When Sybil asked Tom that evening if he wanted to be present for the gift openings, Tom said, "It matters not to me. Whatever is easiest for you. I'm sure that you'll have it all organized and if I was curious about who gave us a specific piece, I could ask you or look at the list."

"Very well," said Sybil. "Would you mind if I opened the ones we received today now, while you're here?"

"Not at all."

"Before I forget, a letter arrived from the publisher of the article you wrote at the Grantham arms," said Sybil, taking the letter out of her apron pocket.

"Excellent," said Tom, taking the letter from Sybil. "Thank you. I was wondering when they would write back." Tom then opened the envelope with his penknife. After reading through the letter, he held out the cheque. "Well, here's the £5 they promised and they will be publishing the article in the Summer Edition."

"Did you want me to deposit it at the bank when I'm out tomorrow?" asked Sybil after she brought over one of the parcels to the sofa where they were sitting.

"Thank you. That would be grand," said Tom, handing the cheque to Sybil and putting the letter in his jacket pocket. "What do we have here?"

Sybil looked at the return directions and it contained only an address and no name. After carefully opening the parcel, there was a note inside addressed to Sybil and Tom. Sybil opened the note and it said, Sybil and Tom, Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Looking forward to the event. Love, Uncle Brian and Aunt Colleen."

Handing the note to Tom, Sybil asked, "Who are Uncle Brian and Aunt Colleen?"

Looking through the note in his hand, Tom said, "They are my Da's brother and his wife."

Sybil then looked into the box and pulled out a large dutch oven. "This is lovely and extremely useful. Would you mind jotting down the name and address and the gift on that piece of paper beside you while I put the gift back into the packaging? It will be easier to transport especially for things that are fragile."

"Of course," said Tom as he picked up the paper beside him and started writing things down.

"Could you add whether they are coming to the wedding or not?" asked Sybil sweetly. "Mama will need to have numbers for the wedding breakfast and it will be easier if it's all in the same place."

Tom nodded and continued to jot. She is utterly beautiful. Three more weeks.

As Sybil was replacing the dutch oven back into the box, she said, "Oh, your mother suggested that we ask Kevin to use the lorry he's borrowing for the table and desk to bring what we have received by Saturday to the flat."

"I suppose it's a good idea since he's borrowing it anyway." Tom looked at Sybil and smiled.

Sybil smiled back at him. "She also thought we could ask him to borrow the lorry again later on to bring the rest of the gifts, but I don't want to impose."

"Why don't we ask him on Saturday?" suggested Tom. "Perhaps he'll be borrowing it for some other reason and we could ask him to take one other trip closer to the wedding."

Once Sybil had the dutch oven back into its packaging, she brought over another gift to open and Sybil and Tom continued in the same manner until they opened the last gift.

"That's the last of it," said Sybil as she sat down beside Tom again. "I was thinking that this might be something we could do at the end of the day together. Sort of our little routine after dinner. Afterward, if you want to go to O'Reilly's, I can work on one of the dresses. What do you think?"

"I don't mind, but if I have to work late for one evening, you won't mind doing this yourself?" asked Tom.

"I was thinking that I would wait until the next evening we're together."

"If you wish," said Tom, looking at the list. "So long as I get to spend part of my free evenings with you. It matters not what we do."

A/N2: Was Tom's apology letter good enough? They found a solution to Sybil's title for the reading of the banns. The wedding gown is almost ready. They are starting to get wedding gifts. Next up is Sybil's interview with the clinic.

As always, please feel free to point out any typos and grammatical errors. Sometimes no matter how hard you or your betas look, these things get missed. As always, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter good or bad, so please do review. :)