A/N: I'm ending the year with the end of my first multi-chapter story although I may do an epilogue. Thanks to all who reviewed it especially tammyteresa and shanarose who faithfully reviewed every chapter. I have written a couple of one-shots that if you haven't read I hope you will do so.

If Sybil was honest with herself she expected Mary or Edith or even her mother to come to her room that evening but no one came. A part of her was angry with herself for what had happened at dinner. She should have picked a better time and way to tell them about Tom. Maybe if she had broached the subject with her mother first it would have gone better. But then her mother seemed almost as angry as her father over Tom as well as her plans to continue nursing.

All the tension Sybil had been feeling made her suddenly burst into tears. After sitting at her vanity crying, Sybil pulled herself together. She needed to determine what of her remaining possessions she would take with her. There was no longer any need to keep some clothes at Downton since she wouldn't be coming back. At least she wouldn't be coming back until, or more accurately if, the tensions between her and her parents eased and they accepted Tom but she wouldn't count on that.

There were some sentimental things she'd take with her such as the small china carousel that her Grandfather Levinson had given her when she visited New York as a child. She had been fascinated by the carousel in Central Park and they had gone there several times during her visit.

Then there were the practical things such as her jewelry. She had a good collection of valuable necklaces and earrings and pins that she had been given through the years as birthday and Christmas gifts. Even though she probably wouldn't have many occasions to wear any of the finer ones, she could sell them. Her nursing salary didn't provide an income great enough to live on and she wasn't sure what Tom's salary would be.

It took Sybil much of the night to go through her possessions not because there was so much but because she found herself reminiscing about the occasions when she had acquired them. In the end she had a trunk and a suitcase filled. When Sybil finally went to bed she slept surprisingly well.

Upon waking Sybil had a dilemma – should she go down to breakfast and maybe incur further wrath from her father. Then again he might, having the night to realize the magnitude of what he said, be willing to talk more reasonably to her.

She decided to ring for a cup of tea and toast giving her more time to decide what to do. Sybil was bathed and fully dressed when she realized that although she had rung the bell over half an hour ago, no one had come to her room.

Finally there was a faint knock on her door but to her surprise it was Mary holding a tray with a teapot, cups, and an array of scones and toast with jams.

"Are you taking over for Anna?" Sybil laughed as she held the door open for Mary to enter the room.

Mary set the tray down on the vanity table before replying. "Papa has given orders that none of the servants are to give you any help today. I had Anna bring this tray to my room since I didn't think you'd want to go down to breakfast."

Sybil sat down heavily on her bed. "He's still angry with me?"

"I don't think angry quite covers it. He thinks if you're giving up "this life" then you shouldn't be using his servants in any way. He's also forbidden me and Edith from having any contact with you this morning."

"Oh Mary." Sybil murmured quietly with tears filling her eyes. "I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Don't worry about me Sybil. I'm a survivor. Here" Mary handed Sybil a cup of tea and placed a plate containing a scone on the bed.

Looking around the room, Mary saw the trunk and suitcase stacked in the corner. She then noticed how bare the vanity and dresser tops were. "I see you were busy during the night. I guess you haven't changed your mind."

"I envy you Sybil" Mary finally managed to say. "You're deciding your life rather than being or doing what Papa or Mama or even society expects."

The hurt in Mary's voice broke Sybil's heart. "Oh Mary. You can do the same. You don't have to marry someone like Richard Carlisle."

"I do have to marry him. I can't tell you why but there is a reason. I wish I was like you Sybil. You truly don't care what others think."

"You can change Mary."

"I'm not like you. I like fine clothes. I want the big house and the servants. I like a lot about this life."

"Do you want those things more than you want love?" Sybil gently inquired. "Matthew is still in love with you. You're blind not to see it."

Mary was on the verge of tears. "Oh Sybil I will miss you so much." She hugged Sybil tightly. She didn't understand how someone so sweet could have such steel in her also.

"We can see each other whenever you come to London. You can write me."

"I have some packages for a few of the staff. I was going to take them downstairs this morning but I guess I shouldn't. Will you give them to them?" Sybil asked.

Mary couldn't believe that in this time Sybil had managed to think of others. But then again Mary realized Sybil was a truly kind and warm hearted person. How could her parents disown her? How could they never want to see that beautiful smile or hear that laugh that could turn the grayest room into sunshine?

Later, when Mary looked at the packages she was surprised there was one addressed to Thomas. What on earth did Sybil see in him that no one else did?

Sybil looked at her trunk. "I guess my greatest problem now is how am I going to get that to the railway station."

"Leave it for now. I'll get it to you. You may not ask the staff for anything but I certainly can." Mary smiled. "And what Papa doesn't know won't hurt him." Even Sybil laughed at that.

Although Mary had told her that she and Edith were not to see Sybil, Sybil thought she should try to say goodbye to Edith anyway. But Edith was not in her room when Sybil knocked or she didn't answer the knock.

Instead as Sybil began her walk to the railway station she found Edith sitting in the car just beyond the sightline of the house.

"I thought you might need a lift" Edith smiled.

"I'm afraid you and Mary are developing some of my bad habits" Sybil laughed. She was delighted that Edith had wanted to see her.

The talk on the ride to the station wasn't as heartfelt as with Mary but pleasing none the less to both Sybil and Edith.

"You're much nicer than you were before the war Edith. I think the war brought out the best of you. I do hope you find something now to continue that happiness."

"I don't know Sybil. I'm not you. I can't take such drastic measures."

"Have you thought about writing? Just find something Edith. You have too much to offer to just sit in that house waiting for someone to come rescue you."

"Can we stop for a minute at Crawley House? I need to say goodbye to cousin Isobel." Of course Sybil's minute turned into twenty making them get to the station with only minutes to spare before Sybil's train departed.

The week before Christmas found Tom back in London. He had gone to France in October and stayed there until the middle of December covering the end of the war. He had filed his final stories with the London office and was now free until the first of the new year when he would meet with the editors in Manchester to discuss his new position with the paper.

Because he hadn't been home to Ireland since getting the full time position with the Guardian, Tom spent Christmas with his family. His mother's house was, as always, filled with so much love and holiday cheer. Their tree filled one corner of the small sitting room. Tom had bought his mother a beautiful glass ornament which she declared too beautiful to only be seen at Christmas but she did hang it in a prominent spot on the tree where it could be seen by all.

It was a rare moment when Tom found himself sitting with just his mother in the kitchen drink tea and eating some of her wonderful biscuits.

"It's so good to be home this year Ma."

"Oh Tom, it's so wonderful to have you here back safe from France. It's so good that terrible war is over" his mother replied. "But I'm surprised you aren't in London with your Lady Sybil."

"I did see her for a few days before I came here. She's spending Christmas with her family."

"And exactly what are your plans for after the holiday?"

"I'm not sure Ma. I meet with the editors in Manchester and then I'll know."

"But whatever . . . Lady Sybil will be part of those plans?"

"I certainly hope so. We've haven't really discussed that. I think we were just so happy the war was over."

"She does sound like a wonderful person"

"She is. I know you'll love her when you meet her Ma."

"I feel like I've already met her through her letters"

Tom looked at his mother with a surprised face. "You read my letters"

"Tom!" his mother replied indignantly. "The letters Sybil sent me. She …"

Tom was totally perplexed. "Sybil wrote you?"

"Yes. The first one came after you returned from France the first time. She thought I would be worried about you and she wanted me to know that you really were fine."

Tom laughed. "That's sounds like something Sybil would do. You said the first letter, she's written more?"

It was Ellen Branson's turn to laugh. "Oh yes. We've written back and forth quite a bit. Let's say we both know a lot more about you."

Tom turned crimson. What on earth would Sybil have said to his mother? And what kind of stories did his mother tell her?

Sybil had been back in London for three days before Tom returned from Ireland. When Tom was in London, he and Sybil usually dined at one of the pubs near the hospital or his hotel unless the evening was warm and they opted for a picnic in a park or at Sybil's favorite spot overlooking the Thames. But on the night he returned from Ireland, Tom took Sybil to a very nice restaurant. It was actually the finest restaurant Tom had ever been to. He dressed in his best suit and of course Sybil looked stunning in a gown he recognized from his chauffeur days. He had always loved the black gown with the gold threads running through it although he had never mentioned that it to her.

As always conversation came easily to the two lovers. Both now had a confidence in their relationship. Tom was pleased with himself that he could treat Sybil to a nice meal in a fine restaurant. Actually he was just happy that he could take Sybil out for a meal or a walk or to a museum. In London no one knew them as the Lady and the chauffeur, they were the journalist and the nurse, or better yet, just Tom and Sybil.

Sybil loved hearing about Tom's Christmas in Ireland. Since she had yet to meet any of his family, she thought his stories of them were a way of getting to know them.

"My mother tells me you two have become quite the pen pals."

Sybil blushed. "I wanted her to know you were okay. I thought it would also be a way for us to get to know each other."

Tom reached for Sybil's hand. "That's one of the reasons I love you so much."

Sybil glossed over her Christmas. She didn't want what had happened with her parents to ruin this evening. There would be time later to tell Tom what had happened. She had other plans for this evening.

Despite the chill in the air, after dinner Sybil insisted on a walk by the Thames.

Walking arm in arm, Sybil suddenly stopped and looked at Tom. "My answer is yes."

Tom looked confused. They hadn't been discussing anything that required an answer. "Yes?"

"Yes" Sybil nodded.

"I'm afraid you have me stumped Sybil. What is your answer to?"

"You asked me something once and I told you I'd give you my answer after the war" she replied with a glint of laughter in her eyes.

Tom looked intently at her and then a wide smile filled his face. "Are you saying . . . are you saying you will marry me?"

"Yes Tom. I want to marry you. That is if the question is still open."

Tom pulled her to him and swirled her around in the air. "Of course it is. There is nothing I've ever wanted more Sybil. I …" but he couldn't finish his sentence before Sybil kissed him passionately.