A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, etc., since the last chapter was posted. All of it is, as always, greatly appreciated. I value every single one. Thanks to those who reviewed for the first time. I hope that you choose to review again.
I want to especially thank my wonderful betas: Tripp3235, mswainwright and _livingfree (on Twitter) (in absentia for this chapter due to school work). 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! :)
To provide a time reference for the weekly readers, we pick up in this chapter the afternoon of May 25, 1919.
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Downton Abbey characters belong to Julian Fellowes and ITV. I'm just playing with them.
Chapter 31
As it was still early in the afternoon when they left the Pastor's office, Tom suggested that they buy some bottled drinks and some apples and return to their picnic spot in the park to spend the rest of their afternoon there. After their apples were done, Sybil remembered her mother's letter that arrived with the Saturday morning mail. She had been so exhausted the night before that she simply slipped the letter into her pocketbook before she fell asleep.
Sybil sat beside Tom and leaned on him as Tom slid open the envelope for her with his pen knife. "I wonder why Mama and Edith didn't send their letters together this week."
Tom then handed the opened envelope to her and put away his knife before putting his arms around her. "Perhaps she was waiting for some last minute information?"
Sybil pulled out the letter which was only a page long. Her brows furrowed as she read and something suddenly prompted her to sit up, pull out of his embrace and put her free hand to her mouth. She then discarded the letter on the ground before turning to sob on Tom's chest.
Tom's arm automatically went around her again and he caressed her back. "Sybil, love. What's the matter?"
Sybil simply clung tighter and sobbed harder.
Tom shushed her, pulled her onto his lap and held her, still bewildered. Perhaps someone died or is sick or hurt?
After holding her for about ten minutes, Sybil was finally breathing quietly, occasionally choking back a sob. Tom asked softly, "Sybil, love, did someone die? Is someone sick or hurt?"
Sybil shook her head and a fresh stream of tears started to fall.
Tom handed her his handkerchief from his pocket and tried to look her in the eye. "What is wrong, love?"
Sybil shook her head again while she dabbed at her eyes with Tom's handkerchief.
Out of ideas and with Sybil unwilling to talk, Tom made a decision. "May I read your letter?"
Sybil nodded slightly as she dabbed at her tears.
Wednesday, May 21, 1919
Downton Abbey
Downton, Yorkshire
My Darling Sybil,
I hope that all is well with you and Mr. Branson and that the wedding organization is going according to plan. There is still so much to do.
I'm so sorry to have to tell you this but your father and I will not be able to attend your wedding in two weeks time after all. We have some urgent business in London to attend to, which came up suddenly that your father believes will take him until at least the middle of June to resolve. Your father will be leaving in the morning and I will be joining him as soon as may be.
The good news is that Mary and Edith will still be attending and they will be leaving Downton next Tuesday for the ferry to Ireland at Holyhead with Anna. I have asked them to send word once they have settled at the Gladstone Hotel and I will give them detailed instructions so that all that we have promised you will be fulfilled.
I am so sorry that I will not be there with you on your special day. I had always dreamt that I would be attending my daughters' weddings. Please hire a photographer so that I can see what you looked like on your wedding day.
Your loving Mama
After reading the letter, anger welled up inside Tom and if he didn't have a distraught fiancée on his lap, he would have voiced a few choice words for the Earl and Countess. What business was more important than your own daughter's wedding? Tom suspected that the Earl changed his mind again and refused to come and the Countess was only obeying him. The last two conversations he had with Lord Grantham had seemed too much like a sudden change of heart. In the back of his mind, he thought was too good to be true and now he knew that it was.
Putting the letter down, Tom caressed her arm. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Sybil snuggled closer and Tom kissed her temple. That ignited something in Sybil as she turned and kissed him fervently on the mouth and soon they were kissing feverishly, Sybil's tongue seeking his with an urgency that she had not displayed before. Before Tom knew it, they were lying on the blanket with him on top of her and Sybil kissing him passionately as if to pour the anger she was feeling toward her parents into passion for him.
When Sybil tugged at his tie, Tom finally put a stop to this. He pulled out of the kiss, pushed himself up and looked her in the eye. What he saw there wasn't arousal but rather anger and sadness. When he tried to sit up, Sybil resisted him, so he tried a different tact. "Sybil, no." Tom said softly. "This isn't the way. I know that your parents hurt you deeply by waiting until the last minute to tell you, but this will not hurt them as much as it will hurt us. I don't want our first time together to be when you're angry and sad, and we agreed that we wanted to wait until we were married."
Sybil then recalled the arguments her sisters used to convince her not to elope. Edith's words "This isn't the way" echoed what Tom just said to her. She then loosened the grip she had on his tie, covered her mouth with one of her hands, and cried.
Tom rolled off of her to one side and gathered her in his arms as she curled up on her side and a second wave of crying started. This continued for another ten minutes before the crying stopped and it was another five minutes before the sobbing slowed down. At this point, Tom could hear the soft, even breathing signifying sleep. To keep her warm, he pulled his discarded jacket from the other side of the blanket and covered her. Holding her as they laid on the blanket under a cloudless sky, Tom let her sleep for a bit and just concentrated on keeping her comfortable.
As Tom watched her sleep, Tom knew for certain that what he told Lord Grantham in his room at the Grantham Arms over a month ago when the Earl tried to bribe him was right. That the best guarantee of Sybil's happiness lay with him. Glancing at the discarded letter on the ground, it was obvious to Tom that Sybil's happiness was never on the top of her parents' priorities. It was good that Lady Mary and Edith were coming, so at least some of Sybil's family would be present and it would be a consolation to her. As he thought of his own family, he was very glad that Cathleen and his mother had accepted Sybil into the family fold and the others at least had grudging respect for her. With all the changes in her life in the past few weeks, Tom was quite surprised that it took her own parents' callousness to break her so completely.
Eventually, as it was getting closer to dinner time, Tom gently woke Sybil up from her nap. When Sybil first heard Tom's voice telling her it was time to get up, she was so happy. His warm embrace as well as his gentle words made her feel so safe and loved, but as the fog of sleep dissipated, she remembered her mother's letter and a shroud of sadness enveloped her.
As they sat up on the blanket, Tom asked, "Are you feeling well enough to go back to my mother's? It's getting close to dinner time now."
Sybil nodded as she sat up, not daring to speak.
As Tom gathered up their things, Sybil fixed her hair as best as she could and pinned her hat on. Tom then handed her the letter from her mother, which she placed in her pocketbook without looking at it. The ride home was subdued as Sybil wasn't in a mood to talk and Tom only wanted to support her. As soon as they entered Mrs. Branson's flat, Sybil nodded at everyone before going to her room. Mrs. Branson was working on some sewing in her chair as Cathleen and Connor were working in the kitchen to get dinner together.
Picking up on Sybil's unusual behaviour, as Tom sat down on the sofa, Mrs. Branson asked, "Is everything all right? Sybil is being unusually quiet."
Tom looked at his mother. "She received some bad news from her mother. Lord and Lady Grantham won't be attending the wedding after all, though her sisters are still coming."
Shocked, Mrs. Branson said, "Oh dear. She must be devastated."
"I knew it was too good to be true when her mother said that they would be there," said Tom bitterly.
"Her parents must have their reasons," said Mrs. Branson. "I wouldn't be too quick to judge before I knew all the facts."
"From what I read in the letter," said Tom. "Her mother was very apologetic, but her father changed his mind."
Just then, Sybil came out of the bedroom with a change of clothes and her apron.
Looking at Sybil, Mrs. Branson said sympathetically, "I'm so sorry to hear that your parents won't be attending the wedding."
Sybil smiled wanly. "They have some urgent business in London that will take until mid-June. It's the first season after the war. I'm sure that my father has many things to attend to."
"Still, I'm sorry to hear of it," said Mrs. Branson.
"I best go help Cathleen and Connor," said Sybil.
Looking over at the kitchen, Mrs. Branson said, "I think that Cathleen and Connor have dinner under control. If you want to set the table, we'll be ready to eat soon."
"Of course," said Sybil.
Not wanting to leave the task entirely to Sybil, Tom got up from the sofa. "Let me help you with that."
Dinner was unusually subdued as even Cathleen picked up on the mood and kept conversation to a minimum after hearing the news. At the conclusion of dinner, Connor said, "I'm sorry that your parents aren't coming, Sybil. If there's anything I can do to cheer you up, please tell me."
"Thank you for the offer, Connor," said Sybil, looking at him gratefully. "Your support means more than anything."
When Sybil walked Tom to the door at the end of the evening, Tom caressed her cheek. "Are you feeling any better?"
"A little," said Sybil quietly, looking to the ground.
Tom stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "Look on the bright side. At least your sisters are still coming and we will be married in eleven days. Remember when we thought no one in your family would attend?"
Sybil nodded and tears started streaming down her cheek. "But it still hurts."
Tom caressed her back and said some soothing words before pulling another handkerchief out of his pocket, Sybil having taken the first one to have it laundered after using it thoroughly that afternoon. "After this one I'm out," said Tom, trying to cheer her up a little.
Taking the handkerchief from Tom, Sybil dabbed at her eyes before looking up at him and giggling a little through her tears. "Thank you. I promise you that I won't cry about this on our wedding day."
"I hope so, since there ought to be plenty of other things you could be thinking of," said Tom with a wink.
"Yes, indeed there would," said Sybil quietly, looking down at his chest, unable to meet his eyes.
They stayed like that for a few minutes as Sybil savoured his warm embrace. Thinking a little on the matter, Sybil realized that though she loved her own family and missed them terribly, Tom was who she needed for the rest of her life, someone who loved her for her alone. Though a wedding was something that officially changed the ties that bind in one's life, Sybil, at that moment, came to the realization that in her heart, mind and soul that she was already married to Tom and that what they were doing in the next eleven days was merely going through the motions of making it official in the eyes of the world.
Once she came to that conclusion, Sybil turned to look at him. "Thank you for everything. I'm glad you were there when I received the news."
Tom moved his hand to caress her cheek. "There's no need to thank me, but I was glad to be with you. I love you, Sybil. I would do anything to keep you from being hurt."
"I know," she whispered before leaning in to kiss him. Looking at him when she pulled out of the kiss, she added softly, "And I love you for it."
This was when Tom put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a longer kiss. When he pulled out of it, he placed his forehead on hers. "I wish you were leaving with me to our flat, but I better go. Try not to think too much about the letter."
Sybil nodded when she stepped away from his embrace.
"I'll see you in the morning," said Tom, opening the flat door.
"Goodnight, Tom." said Sybil.
"Goodnight, love."
As Monday brought the delivery of the pantry and work table for the kitchen, Sybil brought her lunch with her and walked with Tom to the office before heading to their flat. She had had a restless night as she tried to come up with what the urgent business could be and as a result, she was tired and subdued this morning. When she dropped Tom off at the paper, he kissed her cheek and whispered, "Don't work too hard and try not to think too much about your mother's letter. I'll see you at home tonight. I love you."
Sybil blushed at the last bit, ducked her head and smiled wanly at him. When he turned to look at her as he walked into the office, she waved and then went on her way.
Soon after Tom arrived at the office, just as he was going to meet with the managing editor, he ran into Mr. Connolly in the hallway.
"Good Morning, Mr. Branson," said Mr. Connolly, stopping in front of Tom.
"Good Morning, Mr. Connolly," said Tom, standing in front of the editor of the paper.
"I seem to recall that you're getting married at the beginning of June," said Mr. Connolly, placing his thumbs into his suspenders.
"Yes, sir," said Tom, wondering how long this conversation would be. "Late afternoon next Thursday, sir. I'm planning to have a column for the following Tuesday before I leave at noon that day."
"Excellent," said Mr. Connolly. "I overheard your conversation the other day with Mr. Daly about transportation for the day and was wondering if you'd like to borrow my car from noon on the Thursday until noon on the Friday?"
"That's very kind, sir," said Tom, surprised by the offer. "It would be very helpful, but won't you need it to get your lunch and go home that evening?"
"I can bag my lunch for the day and the walk to and from home one day won't do me any harm," said Mr. Connolly, patting his protruding stomach. "Least I can do for my star columnist."
"Star columnist, sir?" asked Tom.
"Didn't I tell you?" asked Mr. Connolly. "Letters have been coming in steadily about your column each week and Circulation tells me that subscriptions have shot up in the last month. They suspect it has in part to do with your column. Good job, Mr. Branson."
"Thank you, sir," said Tom with a smile. "Was there anything else? I have a meeting with Mr. Clarke and he'll be wondering where I am, sir."
"No, that's all, Mr. Branson," said Mr. Connolly. "Keep up the good work."
"I will, sir," said Tom before he continued toward Mr. Clarke's office.
When Sybil arrived at the flat, the warm sun that streamed into the flat brightened her mood. The blue in the main area calmed her somewhat and the bright yellow kitchen made her smile a little as it was going to be their kitchen.
After admiring the flat, Sybil spent the morning cleaning it out in its entirety, especially the kitchen area, moving items from there onto the table in the main area to make room for the delivery lads. Though she tried not thinking about her mother's letter, she couldn't help it and had a couple of crying episodes that morning, but she persevered and got the flat cleaned just before noon. After eating her lunch on a small section of open space on the table, she sat on one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace to enjoy her home a little. While the armchairs were meant for dining at the table and thus too high to be very comfortable in front of the fire, it was better to have something rather than nothing there. Sybil tried to imagine Tom and herself enjoying an evening by the fire and smiled at the thought of such a scene of domesticity. He would be reading the paper while she would be working on a crochet project. Mrs. Branson had offered to teach her how to crochet over the summer after their wedding and Sybil was looking forward to being able to making something.
Sybil was awoken from her reverie by a knock at the door and a shout, "Delivery for Miss Crawley."
"Coming." Sybil shouted back before rising and opening the door.
The young man at the door said, "Work table and pantry delivery, Miss."
Sybil opened the door the rest of the way. "Thank you. Do come in. The kitchen is just here."
As the two men carried the pantry into the spot Sybil indicated, the younger man who spoke continued to be genial and kind, but the older man who did not speak looked at Sybil oddly and muttered something that sounded like "Bloody English."
Sybil then asked, "Yes? Was there something I could help you with?"
The man just gave her an odd look and grumbled, "Nothing."
After they brought in the second work table, the younger man stayed behind to have Sybil sign for the delivery. When Sybil handed him the signed paperwork and their tip, he looked uncomfortable. "Don't mind old Quinn. His nephew was killed in the Rising and it soured him on the English."
Sybil nodded. "I don't blame him. Please tell Mr. Quinn that some English are very ashamed of how the Rising was handled by their countrymen and that we're not all murderous thugs."
"Yes, Miss," said the young delivery man. "Have a good day."
Now that Sybil was doing more things on her own, she was beginning to notice the discontent that simmered beneath the surface of a lot of the Irish, especially those who didn't know of her connection to the Bransons. She often wondered how different it might have been if Tom's mother hadn't accepted her and whether she would have been able to adjust to her adopted country nearly as well.
Sybil spent the rest of the afternoon organizing her pantry and her work table, finding the best spots for the pots and pans that had arrived as gifts and the pantry foods that she had started purchasing in the last week. When she was done, the open area was at least looking more like it was lived in. With another half hour before Tom was expected, Sybil pulled some thank you cards out of the manila folder she brought with her and started writing more thank yous for gifts that will need to be posted after the wedding.
When she got through her fifth one, she could hear the keys unlocking the door that signaled Tom's arrival. Getting out of her chair quickly, Sybil was there to greet him when he opened the door. "Welcome home," said Sybil with a small smile. "How was your day?"
Tom leaned in for a kiss. "Busy. Wrote most of the first draft of my next column."
"That's wonderful," said Sybil. "How did your talk with Mairin go?"
"Mairin was happy to read a bible passage." Tom looked at Sybil.
"Oh good," said Sybil. "What of Brigid?"
"Brigid was excited to be a flower girl, but Mairin was less so since she thought she would have get a dress for her," said Tom, rolling his eyes.
"You did tell her that Brigid could wear her Sunday dress right?" asked Sybil.
"I did, but Mairin was insistent that Brigid needed to have a better dress than that," said Tom with a sigh. "She knows that Ma designed bridesmaids dresses for Cathleen and your sisters."
"Ah, I see," said Sybil. "Did she have objections other than the dress? I know that she wasn't keen that we were marrying somewhere other than the local parish."
"Not that I could tell," said Tom. "But who knows with Mairin. She could have objections to the church and then use the dress as the reason why Brigid couldn't be flower girl."
"I'll stop by tomorrow after lunch when I go out food shopping to talk with her then," said Sybil, thinking ahead.
"Thank you," said Tom. "She might listen to you better than she did to me. How was your day? I hope you didn't dwell too much on your mother's letter."
Unable to lie to Tom, Sybil merely looked away and blinked back a few tears.
Pulling her into a hug, Tom said, "Shh. I'm so sorry I brought it up." Sybil laid her head on his shoulder away from him to hide the tears. He caressed her cheek tenderly as she pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed at the tears. It was a few minutes before she felt composed enough to look up at Tom.
Tom smiled at her. "I see that the kitchen furniture has arrived." He desperately hoped that by not bringing up the subject again that it would avoid more tears.
"Yes, I spent the rest of the afternoon putting things in their place," said Sybil with a small smile. "Should I show you where everything is before we head back to your mother's?"
"I like that idea," said Tom and they spent the next fifteen minutes going through Sybil's hard work for the afternoon, which included a lot more hugging and kissing than an inspection of a small kitchen would entail, before heading to his mother's for supper.
A/N2: What did you think of Lady Grantham's letter? Was it suitably transparent? Next up, the final days before Mary and Edith show up.
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. :)
