A/N: The reason this was not posted sooner was because I was a little confused as to whether or not people had even read the chapter before this one. I know there have been glitches with this site all week but I didn't think they affected my story because I did get some reviews. Not to be that girl but when you consistently get 10+ reviews per chapter and then suddenly it takes you four days to get four reviews, you find yourself lacking all motivation to post.
So before you read this chapter, go back and see if you've read the chapter before. And then if you have, read this chapter. And then if you're feeling it, review! Why? Because it honestly makes me post faster. And the sooner I post the rest of this story (did I mention I finished writing it today? Like ALL OF IT...) the sooner I can begin posting Beautiful Collisions and we can all find out who this mystery boy is...
Timeline: No more timeline from this point out. This story is now happily AU!
Song: Through the Mines - Stars
Days had passed, turning hours into moments long gone. Tom and Sybil did their best to acclimate to their new life, one that was foreign to Tom and still so familiar to Sybil. She enjoyed the meals she no longer had to cook, but missed the privacy. It had been one too many times that her and Tom had been interrupted or caught doing something unprecedented for a lady and her husband, regardless of his background. As was customary, they'd both smile it off, walking away, leaving the guilt they felt for such a thing they should never have to regret, dissipate, only to be rediscovered later in the comfort of their own bedroom.
They heard the whispers though and felt the way everyone talked about their relationship. For something that had been hidden so carefully from the rest of the world for years, it was suddenly everyone else's place to scrutinize their love. They were common knowledge now, something that swelled them with pride while also deflating everything they had worked so hard to achieve.
The affection they showed and the love they held for one another was clear as they exchanged glances across the dinner table and smiled about jokes only they knew the humor behind. There was comfort here, comfort previously hidden at Downton. It was odd, and yet so reassuring to find that the love they found in Dublin existed here too.
With her pregnancy nearing its end, Sybil spent a good majority of her days sleeping. She would usually skip breakfast due to a seemingly always upset stomach, and would then join the family downstairs for a quick lunch. An afternoon nap would follow, and then she'd spend the time before dinner in the library with Tom. They'd read books and discuss the baby. Mr. Carson would unwillingly bring them tea, a request of the Dowager at the insistence of the comfort of her granddaughter. When he'd arrive in the room, he'd often have to make quite a bit of noise to get the young lovers to acknowledge his presence. They were so often lost like this, existing separate from the rest of the estate.
"Sybil, darling, I'm so glad you're in here. Do you have a moment?" Cora spoke, entering the room with Mary and Edith trailing behind. Sybil's two sisters were ignoring one another, instead staring at the way Sybil separated from Tom, removing her feet from his lap. She sat forward, doing her best to be the girl they had raised her to be. Such a thing was difficult when carrying Tom's child.
"Of course," she whispered, holding Tom's hand in her lap.
"Tom, Papa and Matthew are having a drink in the dining room if you'd like to join them. They wanted to discuss something with you, I believe," Mary piped up, doing her best to hold a genuine smile. Her words gave an offer, but Tom knew better than to deny, even politely. Even without listening to what he was sure they were saying about him, he knew how they felt. They didn't believe him, much less understand the love he had for Sybil. Both things would have taken effort, effort that was eliminated by their English background and aristocratic social class. Mind was never paid to boys from Dublin before; that wasn't going to change now.
Tom smiled at Sybil, something that allowed to her know he'd be able to handle himself in such a situation. Sybil found herself doubting him he more than she ever had before. He kissed her cheek, causing her to smile and close her eyes, savoring the soft touch of his lips to her skin.
"Bí maith," she whispered, causing Tom to return her smile and leave the women to talk.
"Is everything alright?" She began as Tom disappeared out the door. She was receiving glares for the words she had just spoken, but felt no remorse for such lovely sounds. Sybil was proud of the language she picked up, no matter how sparse and limited her knowledge was. It was a part of Tom, a dwindling part, he reminded her, that she was happy to learn about. She was happy to learn about all parts of him, but his culture and the place that raised him meant just as much to her as Downton.
"You know Irish now?" Edith questioned, wondering what her sister had just said to her husband. Her question only confirmed what Mary and Cora were curious of. The two of them shot a look to Sybil, patiently waiting for an answer, hoping it would be short and simple.
"Not much," Sybil began. "Enough to get me by."
"Lovely," Mary whispered, rolling her eyes.
"Sybil, have you begun to think about the arrangements once the baby is here? I mean, have you even begun to think about preparations?"
"I talked to Dr. Clarkson yesterday," she began. "He says he'll deliver the baby here."
"And what about after the baby is born? Have you begun to shop for the little one? What about clothing and a crib and-"
Sybil cut Mary off. "It's bad luck to buy things for the baby before it's born," she explained.
Edith sent her youngest sister a glare. "Says who?!"
"It's an Irish thing," Sybil explained, staring down at the ground now. "I mean, other people can buy me things but I'm not supposed to get anything for the baby."
"Well I've already begun to rearrange the nursery-"
"Oh no," Sybil exclaimed. "I mean, sure, when the baby is a older she can sleep in the nursery but Tom and I want the crib in our room."
"Sybil, this isn't Dublin," Mary spoke. "We have a nursery, you might as well take advantage of it. There's no need to cramp all three of you into your old room."
Sybil thought back to Ireland and how the room they shared there was half the size of her childhood room at Downton. A place that seemed cramped to Mary was large and inviting to Sybil and her new family.
"Tom and I would like the baby to sleep in her crib in our room." Her words came quickly and without force. A silence fell over the room. Sybil's words were curt, full of anger she had yet to even fully disclose.
"And what about a nanny? Have you talked about that? What about a wet nurse?"
Sybil shook her head. "We don't want a nanny and I most definitely do not need a wet nurse."
Cora sighed. It was clear how upset Sybil was getting and this place that they now stood, as mother and daughter and now mother and mother, found them at odds. As much as Cora wished to understand her daughter's frustration, she couldn't see through the ease of her options. When Cora was Sybil's age, she jumped at the prospect of help. Carrying a child was terrifying enough without thinking of nursing and caring for it too. Now, with Sybil a year younger than Cora was when she gave birth to Mary, there was a maturity she could not grasp and a disgust for the things Cora was once so comforted by.
The youngest Crawley daughter was standing now, peering out the window of the library onto the dew covered grass below. "I would like to actually raise my child," Sybil spat.
"Sybil, darling, Mama is only trying to help," Mary reminded. Not yet a mother, she found herself just as offended as her mother seemed to be.
She turned back to her family. "I understand that and I appreciate the thought but Tom and I have discussed all of this. We are so grateful for the security you have given us here and the help you've provided us while we figure all of this out but we want to parent our children our way. Isn't that what marriage is about? Can't I be trusted for wanting things this way? Why am I being condemned for wanting to act as a mother?"
"Sybil…"
"No, Edith! This is my child. I will not apologize for choosing to parent my children a certain way."
"Darling, please calm down."
"I will not calm down!" She yelled, her hands balled into frustrated fists at her side. "I am not a child anymore! I am married and baring a child of my own and I am going to be a mother soon. If this upsets you that much then fine!"
"Sybil, Mama is only trying to help. If you don't want help then so be it. Just stop being so stubborn and move on."
Sybil sighed. Mary was right. But there were things here, thinks unspoken and therefore unheard of, that she was defending. They'd see it, but never acknowledge just how much it all meant to Sybil. Such a thing that was so evident to the youngest Crawley sister went unwitnessed by the rest of her family. The words she spoke not only defended her as a mother but also a wife. This wasn't just about the love she felt for her unborn child but for her husband and best friend as well.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, sitting back down on the couch next to Mary. "Tom and I have just spent a lot of time talking about all of this and we have it all worked it. We appreciate all you have done for us lately but we want to do this by ourselves. We need to," she added.
Cora sighed. "It's okay to have help. But," she started with a change of tone. "If you want to do it this way then your father and I will respect that. Just please remember that when you say things like this you are belittling how you were raised, Sybil. You had a nanny and wet nurse and you turned out just fine!"
"Mama-"
But Cora was already gone, standing and walking out of the room to leave her daughters behind. Sybil looked over her shoulder, then to the ground below. The baby, her child with Tom, kicked, sending a shiver up her spine. She wanted to say something, to tell her mother that it wasn't like that, and that she would never disrespect her in such a way. Somehow though, Sybil knew such words were useless. In her parents' eyes she had done so much more than disrespect them. It began when she left for Dublin and continued when she returned a few short days ago, still siding with the man she loved.
~!~
Branson found himself alone with Robert far more than he was ever comfortable with. Mary had mentioned that Matthew was in here speaking with Robert, and she sounded truthful, but when he entered the dining room, it was just Robert reading the paper and sipping a glass of whiskey. If it weren't for the half empty crystal tumbler on the table, Tom would have completely doubted what Mary had told him. Deciding not to think about it, he sat down, inviting himself into an environment he would never truly be welcome in.
Carson walked over to pour the young man a drink, but Branson politely refused, deciding that alcohol would be no cure for the mood in the room. If anything, it would only work to heighten the tension already building between himself and Sybil's father.
Robert knew it too, but he sipped at his glass of Brandy, bringing the crystal away from his lips to see Tom from behind the fragmentation of the glass. He spoke now, picking up his paper like another boundary to keep them separated. This was only further emphasized as Tom read the headlines, all British and biased, written by men who knew no better and believed that what they told was the truth.
"She's my baby girl," Robert began. "And I've accepted this but it'll never be okay with me. A father should want to be happy for his daughter and I see the way you look at her and it should want to make me proud but I honestly just want to ring your neck, Branson." His voice was raising in volume now. "You'll understand someday when you have a daughter. Or maybe you won't," Robert finished, thinking of the child his daughter was baring. It was Tom's child, a thought that made him cringe and falter. He should be happy for her, but he tried all of that and ended with nothing but a broken heart.
After she had left, Robert expected her to soon return. Days turned into weeks and then suddenly a year had passed without him seeing his youngest daughter. He had surmised that Sybil would not be able to handle such a life; a cramped flat in Dublin could never provide what Downton had to offer. But she remained, solidifying all that Robert feared about the feelings between Sybil and Tom. It was almost as if he had failed her, like the things he gave her, the gowns and the parties were never enough and somehow the life she led in Ireland was more than adequate. It was "perfect", he remembered hearing Cora relay such news to him in one of her first letters.
Tom was still, unsure of what to do with his hands or how to sit. "Nothing ever happened," he assured, thinking back to all of those times his lips itches to touch her skin but were granted no such access.
"Spare me," Robert spat, sitting back in his chair after finally dropping his folded newspaper onto the table.
"I can't do that, sir. It's clear she hasn't told you much and I get that. I'm sure you'd tell her you don't want to hear it the way you're doing with me now but it's important that you know the truth. I'm sure this is difficult but I can promise you I barely kissed her under your roof. I would never. She wouldn't allow it."
"And you?"
Tom sighed. "I respected her wishes. I loved your daughter then and I love her even more now and I know that is so hard for you to understand because you think that because I'm below you my love isn't the love she deserves. I know you think she deserves more and I used to agree with you but she has showed me we are exactly what we deserve. And this baby-"
"Do you understand how hard it is for me to look back at all the times you took her places? I shudder, Branson. She was a child!" Robert roared. His voice was booming now, reminding Tom of all the other times he had been scolded. Once in the drawing room and the next in the library. She was with him the first time, and then gone the next. Somehow though, she was always there to help him, to pull him up onto his feet and point him in the right way. He made her better; had he said that yet?
"I'm sorry you feel that way. I can only tell you what I know. Nothing happened. She grew up and she decided what she wanted. I'm sorry that it wasn't what you wanted as well."
"It is amazing to me all of the things that I apparently don't know," Robert emphasized. "My own daughter going behind my back with the help. And now you two are expecting and I'm supposed to accept this? I can't! She may be your wife but she will always be my little girl. I can't forgive you for taking her away. And if only you could keep your mouth shut at the dinner table when-"
"Papa?"
Tom turned to face the voice at the door. He knew it well, and even as he received such a berating from her father, he smiled as he saw his wife there, the light cast in behind her. "Syb-"
"Tom, please," she said, her voice coming at him like a whisper as she placed a calming hand to his shoulder. Sybil then turned to her father, her posture strong and steady. "Why don't you say these things to me, Papa?"
"Sybil, please, this isn't your place…" Robert mumbled, picking up his newspaper. He hid behind it, unable to face the look on his daughter's face as she watched him so adamantly disapprove of the love she had for her husband. He may have not seen it before but surely he saw it now. It was present in the way they held hands in the library as Sybil tipped her head back to laugh. There was freedom there, freedom Robert seemed to regret never being able to give Sybil himself.
"It was never my place, was it? You don't get it, do you? I'm not your property!" Her voice was thunderous now, begging to not only be heard but listened to as well. "I don't belong to anyone, not even Tom! I am my own person! I acted the way I did all those years because it was what I wanted." She touched a hand to her belly, feeling the baby somersault in her womb. "I'm sorry you don't want to hear it but I used to sneak out to the garage because it was what I wanted to do. I wanted to see him, I wanted to be with him, and it was my choice to leave!" Robert cringed, watching as Tom reached up to stroke her hand still on his shoulder. "I can make my own choices and I'm sorry that scares you! But please do not badger my husband for things he only supports. Do not get angry with him for allowing me to make decisions you never could!"
Robert stood up. The newspaper fell off his lap and to the ground, leaving the frail pages to drift slowly down to the floor. "That is enough!" he yelled.
Sybil and Tom remained, neither seeming to be too moved by Robert's actions. Sybil merely turned to Tom, imposing upon him her own wish. "Let's go, Tom. I'm tired."
"How dare you! I am your father!" It was a reminder, one that Sybil was all too happy to ignore.
She lived in a different world, even now that she was back in this house. Her world, far removed from that of her father's, allowed her the liberty to walk and talk as she pleased. Far from this place she would have liked to run, but the child growing inside of her and the man that helped to put it there made her stay.
"I am done here Papa! I am married now and I can do as I please. I am not a little girl anymore and in case you couldn't tell I am about to have my own child soon and I will not allow you to belittle the love we've created. Tom..."
"Please do not rub your marriage in my face, Sybil. It's hard enough as it is..." His voice was much calmer now, though it still outreached the volumes touched upon by his daughter and her husband. Tom barely spoke, but his eyes burned into Lord Grantham like a flame through steel, creating a hot patch of metal that eventually went up in flames.
It didn't get that far though, and for Sybil's sake, he doubted it ever would. Tom found himself with more and more control the longer they stayed here. She had sacrificed so much, her old and her new life to secure his own happiness. He thought back to the other night, her body wracked with sobs as she relayed to him the news of the nursing position she had received in Dublin had they been allowed to stay. He cried with her, kissing her hairline in apology. He never wanted any of this and he felt stupid and selfish for allowing his political views to misprize the love he had for this woman, his best friend. "I'm going upstairs with my husband. The stress is not good for our baby. Goodnight, Papa."
Robert watched them leave. They were connected, with Sybil holding Tom's hand. He stroked at her finger with his thumb, doing his best to remind her that he was always there even when such a thought seemed to be so far removed, as removed as he sometimes felt from all of this. It was then that Robert saw her, the same little girl with a mop of curls atop her head, appearing to him in flashes of pastels, yellows and lavenders and blues, as she ran back and forth chasing their old dog around the gardens.
She would always be that girl, even now as a woman. Her hair was short the way it was then, and she wore much darker colors, no longer cinched at the waist to accommodate the child she would soon welcome into the world. Sybil was different then and she was different now after having forged her own life beyond this estate. Robert took it all with a grain of salt, refusing to allow the interaction and many of the others they had had just like it to make him feel defeated. He resolved though, to try harder, and he took a page from Tom's book, as he resolved to bite his tongue, ignoring how bitter it tasted.
In the hall now, Sybil kissed Tom's cheek, snuggling into him as they walked away from the dining room toward the staircase. "Are you hungry?"
Tom chuckled. "No, but I'm sure you are," he teased, knowing how in these last few weeks her appetite had increased drastically. She was always asking the maids or one of the footmen for a glass of milk and some biscuits, even if the family had just finished a meal. Few things sat right in her stomach and many of the odors that wafted around the house close to dinner made her dizzy. Tom would insist she lie down, but she refused, instead using her own breathing to cure the nausea while he rubbed soothing circles into her back.
"Come down to the kitchen with me?"
Tom only smiled, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles in agreement.
They snuck downstairs, past the pantry and the office, into the empty kitchen. A startled Daisy jumped at seeing the two of them down here and immediately she asked Sybil if there was anything she could do for her.
Sybil only shook her head, looking around to the spotless kitchen, untouched even after such a large meal. "I'm sorry to bother you, Daisy, but would it be possible for me to look for something to eat? I'm awfully hungry," she said, her cheeks blushing as she looked down to her swollen tummy.
Tom looked over his shoulder to where the rest of the servants, mostly the younger staff, sat in the room opposite the kitchen, discussing the day's events, laughing at mishaps and teasing one another. He was once apart of all of that, and part of him felt the familiar tug to go and join them. Thomas walked toward the couple, standing next to Tom as Sybil began to follow Daisy to the ice box. "Lady Sybil, can I get you anything?"
Sybil looked over her shoulder, smiling at the young man she used to work with. She had always had a soft spot for Thomas, one she relayed to a rather jealous Tom once in the garage. He may have appeared curt to the rest of the world, but he was rather kind with her, and always very respectful. "Oh no, Thomas, but thank you. Daisy is just going to help me find a snack and then we'll be out of your way."
"Take your time, milady," he yelled after her as Daisy led her out of the kitchen toward the back store cupboard. "You got lucky with that one," Thomas whispered, not even bothering to look at Branson.
Tom looked up, catching eyes with the footman. "Not you too," he joked, feeling at ease that there was someone in this house he could finally have a sense of humor with. Thomas and O'Brien never bothered him the way they seemed to bother the rest of the house. They made their comments, often telling him he should be quiet with his views on the world, but that was really it. Tom enjoyed O'Brien's snarky nature, and often loved the way he would catch her and Thomas feuding. It was reprieve from the otherwise mundane life he used to have.
"Are you two here for good then?"
"I don't know," Tom managed. "Whatever she needs."
"You'd stay here for her? They hate you…"
His response came all too quickly. "I know." And he did. All too well, actually.
"That's admirable, I suppose," Thomas began, still looking ahead. "I don't think I'd be able to do it."
"Does everyone down here hate me too? I mean…"
"Carson thinks you're an abomination," Thomas said plainly causing Branson to laugh. "But I think the rest of us could care less."
"You too?"
Thomas finally looked at Tom, smirking at the former chauffeur. "If you break her heart, I'll break your neck."
Unsure of why, Tom smiled back. Such a threat was comfort in this house. "We've made it a year. Doesn't that mean anything to anyone? We are married..."
Sybil and Daisy were coming out of the pantry now. Thomas looked to Tom, throwing one last notion over his shoulder: "One day at a time."
"Whatcha get?" Tom asked, seeing the plate in Sybil's hand.
"Pear tart and a banana," Sybil beamed, showing off her plate with it's cut up fruit and fresh pastry. Tom had guessed the biscuits would be served at breakfast the following morning and he thanked Sybil with a kiss to the cheek as he pulled her into him, seeing she had two pastries on her plate.
Daisy carried a cup she walked to the stove with. She retrieved a pot from its position hanging down from the ceiling and poured the glass's contents into the pot. She lit the stove, stirring the milk with a wooden spoon so it didn't create a nasty top layer of fatty film.
"Warm or hot, milady?" Daisy asked, still stirring the milk.
"I'm sure that's fine," Sybil said, standing on her toes to see the contents of the pot. Daisy removed the mixture from the burner and poured the warm liquid into a mug.
"Daisy, do you mind if we eat down here?"
"Of course, milady. Can I get you anything else?"
"Oh no," Sybil said hurriedly. "You've been such a big help. I really do hope Mrs. Patmore doesn't scold you for this."
"We appreciate it," Tom added, earning a smile from the young kitchenmaid. Daisy walked past them, disappearing up the back stairs to where her room was. The apron she hung on its hook swung as Tom watched Sybil hoist herself up onto the counter in the middle of the room. She rested her plate on her lap, immediately biting into the sweet treat.
"Hungry?"
"Don't tease," she laughed, swallowing the doughy biscuit. "Will you still love me if I get fat?"
"You won't get fat," he said. Tom leaned into Sybil, resting his hands on her knees as he kissed her nose. "But yes, of course I'll still love you."
Sybil continued to eat her tart. She sipped at her milk and then placed the glass back down on the wooden countertop. "Imagine if my mum saw me here."
"Ladies shouldn't put their bums on the counters in the kitchen."
"Good thing I'm not a lady anymore," Sybil smirked in her husband's direction before going on to eat her banana. She bit at it and he watched her as she devoured the fruit in tiny little bites. She looked like a child, her feet dangling down toward the grown as she inconspicuously chewed at the pre-cut banana pieces. Tom laughed.
"What?"
"You look silly, s'all…"
Sybil dropped her food, putting the almost clear plate by her side. "That's comforting."
"You're beautiful," he muttered, trying to dismiss her lack of amusement. When she refused to let it go, he kissed her lips, slowly at first, then more passionately. Cupping his neck, she drew him in. If it weren't for the counter she sat on, he would have been pressed fully into her.
"Oh, I'm sorry!"
The sound pulled them apart. Sybil and Tom looked to the door where Ivy, the new kitchenmaid stood, untying her apron. "I didn't know anyone was in here."
"We were just going," Sybil mumbled, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. She jumped down off the counter and began to wipe her hands on her dress. Tom pressed a steady hand to her lower back, bringing the plate with his pastry up to their room. Sybil dropped her dirty glass in the sink, hoping Daisy wouldn't mind washing it in the morning. The two hurried out of the kitchen, laughing over being caught. The servants left in their quarters stared at the two as they bounded up the stairs, giggling all the way.
At the top, they hung a right, heading for the staircase in the main hall. The rest of the house was silent, with just a few candles flickering in the absence of sound.
The young couple entered their room, finally able to catch their breath. "That was mortifying!" Sybil croaked out. She was standing in front of the armoire now, ridding herself of her velvet dress to replace it with her nightgown. Slowly, she draped the material over her head, then past her shoulders. It stopped though, bunching at her expanded waist. "No, no no," she whined.
Tom looked to her. He was in just his pajama bottoms now. "What's wrong love?"
"This doesn't fit anymore. I am getting fat," she commented, removing the material and throwing it to the ground.
"Wear my robe," he commented.
Sybil looked around, finding the garment laying on the back of the chair at her desk. Really, it was his desk now, as he spent hours there reading and scribbling notes in a legal pad.
Seductively, Sybil grabbed the material. She removed her bra, and slowly threaded her arms through their respective sleeves before tying the plush material at the waist. All the while, Tom watched her, seeing as the cream knickers she wore peeked out as she walked toward the bed, each step revealing more and more of her leg. "Cozy," she commented, hiding her body under the covers.
Tom finished getting dressed before joining her. He left the light on his bedside table illuminated, not yet wanting this night to end. He leaned into her. "Can I talk to her?"
Sybil was propped up on her elbows, staring down at her enlarged stomach. She couldn't see her toes, and she wondered how ridiculous she looked in her husband's bathrobe. "Of course," she whispered.
Tom peeled back the flaps of his robe, revealing their child cocooned so warmly within its mother.
"You know, we always call it a girl," Sybil began. Tom was rubbing her skin now, pressing his calloused hand to rub at the smooth expanse of her midsection. He remembered the first time he had touched her like this. It was in Liverpool, when they had gotten more than carried away at the Inn they had stayed at during their first night alone. Her tummy was taut then, but he knew that they would get here eventually.
Tom kissed her stomach and then looked up at his wife. "I think it is a girl."
"Me too."
"She's going to be stunning, just like her Mama," Tom said, placing another kiss to her sensitive skin.
"I hope she gets her Papa's eyes."
Another kiss and then: "Oh really?" he asked, still eye level with her stomach.
"Really," she teased.
"I hope she has her mother's hair. And her button nose. And your heart. She has to have your heart…"
"Her Papa's got a pretty good heart too," Sybil began. For a reason she was unaware of, she began to cry, feeling the tears on her cheeks before she was even able to acknowledge them pooling in the corner of her eyes. "I am so emotional!" she sputtered, allowing him to wipe away her tears so she wouldn't have to. "Whoever she's like, I just want her here."
"Me too," he agreed, kissing her nose. "We've waited long enough."
Thank you for reading! I really do appreciate all of the support this story has gotten since I began posting. I can't say it enough.
x. Elle