A/N: There's a bit of gaeilge that I originally had in here but deleted at the last minute. I'm kind of at this point where I like to acknowledge that there is a possibility of them speaking it, but for me to actually write it involves awkward emails to my father asking for tense correction and then mood-killing footnotes at the end of each chapter that explain what each phrase means. Sorry, just my opinion. So ignore it being explained instead of actually spoken.

Song: Raining on Sunday - Keith Urban

There had been an embarrassing moment this morning. One that prompted Sybil to get out of bed much earlier than she had planned and run downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hughes. Everyone stared at her, immediately growing concerned as the young mother darted around the kitchen asking for the housekeeper. The kitchen maids all ensured her she would be down shortly and then continued to stare at Sybil as she waited patiently outside the downstairs office that both Mrs. Hughes and Carson shared.

"Lady Sybil, can I help you with something?" Carson asked, coming down the stairs. "Is the baby alright? Where's Mr. Branson?"

"He's upstairs with her, thank you Carson. We're all fine. I just need to discuss something with Mrs. Hughes."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do, milady?"

Sybil shook her head quickly, recalling that morning's activities only to reassure herself that she most definitely could not discuss this with Mr. Carson.

"As you wish, milady."

"Mrs. Hughes!" Sybil jumped up from the chair in the hall as she saw the housekeeper walking toward her. Mrs. Hughes hurried her actions, immediately asking the same questions Mr. Carson had. Sybil assured her all was fine, before asking the housekeeper if she had a minute or two.

"I suppose I do." She guided the young woman into her office and shut the door behind them. "Is everything alright?"

"Well…" Sybil began. "I was just wondering if it would be possible for the housemaids to be held off while everyone is in Scotland?"

"Why ever so?"

Sybil looked to the ground. When that wasn't enough, she kept her hands clasped down in front of her, and she fidgeted, shifting the weight of her body from one foot to the other as she searched for the words. "I appreciate the work they do, really. And I understand that they only want to help, but this new maid, Edna, the one who opens the windows and makes our bed, I just don't think she's quite ready for all of that."

"So am I to remove her permanently or just while your family is in Scotland? I promise you, milady, she was given to us on very good reference…"

"Oh no!" Sybil said, afraid she had offended Mrs. Hughes. In all honesty, Sybil and Mrs. Hughes had always respected one another. If Mary was Carson's favorite then Sybil was Mrs. Hughes'. "I just don't think she had been trained properly, maybe. Can she at least be held off until we ring?"

"Well that is what all of the housemaids are taught to do unless you've given them a specific time for waking. Has she not been compliant?"

"This morning...no…" Sybil finally managed, her cheeks turning red.

Even then she could feel it, the trembling in her thighs as Tom lapped at her center with his tongue that morning. He soothed and licked her clit as he ran a finger up and down her warm slit, loving every inch of her body, and finally giving this last part of her the adoration he felt she deserved. It was then that their bedroom door swung open and Edna, the new housemaid, invited herself in to open the windows. By then, Sybil had covered both her and Tom up but only after she had clamped her legs shut tightly around her husband's head. "The fuck, Syb?" But he was quiet, hearing as the maid scurried away, laughing into her apron before shutting the door to their bedroom.

Remembering all of this, Sybil brought a shocked hand up to her lips.

Mrs. Hughes leaned into the young girl and pressed a calming grip to her forearm. "I will talk to her…"

"Oh no, please don't. This is so embarrassing…"

"Lady Sybil, you are a married woman. These things happen. I will talk to her."

Mrs. Hughes walked away, never once casting a downward glance at Sybil. Maybe she was busy, or maybe she didn't understand what it was that Sybil was referring to. Surely, Sybil thought, her face had said it all.

Sybil ran back upstairs, grabbing Maddie's warmed bottle from the counter where Mrs. Patmore always left it. She thanked the kitchen staff and then disappeared, taking the stairs quickly. When she reached the top, she cut through the foyer, then up the grand staircase, heading toward the bedroom she shared with Tom.

The door was still open, and Tom was dressed now, holding a sleeping Madeleine in his arms. He was sitting in the armchair near the fireplace, making silly faces at their daughter while she grabbed for his face. He laughed, paying no mind to the housemaid admiring father and daughter as she made the bed.

She asked him, in extremely broken gaeilge so as not to alert Edna, why he was sitting in the chair. Tom replied, in plain English, no longer caring for pleasantries. "Because this is my room and our daughter was crying and I don't see why I have to be displaced just so the bed can be made. Really, I don't see why the bed has to be made as soon as we're out of it anyway." He was looking straight ahead before, but now he looked up to Sybil, searching her eyes for answers.

"Remember when we were in Dublin how we spent our Sundays?" He didn't need to continue. Words in english or gaeilge could never recount their Sunday mornings in Dublin the way both he and she currently were.

Sybil only smiled. She reached out to push back his fringe, then touch a cooling palm to her daughter's forehead to do the same. She remembered just as well as he did, and both swelled, wanting so badly to experience those mornings again.

Sybil handed the warm bottle to Tom. He tested the liquid on his wrist, just as he was sure Sybil had done after taking it from the kitchen. Maddie grabbed for the bottle and even did her best to hold onto it with her small hands. She was more than a year old now, and the perfect combination of her mother and father. She was beginning to look more like Tom and less like Sybil as she grew up, and as much as Tom said he felt bad for the child, he also couldn't help but to tell her how beautiful she was, hoping one day she'd understand the word for its worth.

"Thank you, Edna," Sybil spoke at the maid after she remained far too long when the bed was done being made.

"Of course, milady," Edna said, flashing Sybil, and then Tom and Maddie a smile before leaving the room.

Sybil followed her all the way to the door, then, without warning, shut the door firmly in it's frame before locking not only the bottom lock but the top one as well.

"What?"

"I'm going mad!" Sybil screeched, throwing her hands up as if to surrender to it all. She walked to the bed and collapsed, allowing her legs to flail upward as she leaned back. Abruptly, she sat up again. "I can't take it. I can't handle this house or the constant company, or the planning. I don't want it. I want-"

"You want Dublin," Tom pointed out. He walked behind her and laid Madeleine in the center of their large bed. Sybil scooted up to protect the child as she rocked back and forth and began to play with her feet. Tom laid down so that he was on the other side of their still small child.

Sybil rested her head on her hand. Tom mimicked her actions and both parents acted as a fence to cage Maddie in and keep her from crawling, or worse-rolling, off the bed. They would do this at night after Maddie had had her last bottle of the day and still refused to fall asleep. It was their time to shut out the world, and now, with it not even eight o'clock in the morning, they were doing the same thing.

"Did you burp her?"

"She didn't want much of it…"

Sybil tilted her head as if to show her dissatisfaction. "Tom, she has to eat. You can't let her always have her way."

"She'll have her cereal when we eat breakfast after mass," Tom commented, knowing this was a discussion they'd never settle. "Look how happy she is. I dare say, she's not that hungry."

"But I am trying to get her back on a schedule for when I start work regularly next week." Sybil sighed. "It's going to be you or a housemaid that have to tend to her if she's cranky. This isn't normal…"

"For her to be spoiled?" Tom rolled his eyes. "You turned out fine." He picked up Maddie and laid the child on his chest. She crawled up, immediately patting out a rhythm on her Da's cheek. She giggled, and then screamed out, causing Tom to laugh, and Sybil to join in on when she couldn't keep a straight face anymore.

Sybil reached over to touch Maddie's cheek. The infant grabbed her finger and began to shake it up and down. "She's getting strong," Sybil commented after her daughter let go of her hand. "Did you pack her bag?"

"It's by the fire. Do you think Mrs. Patmore has any of those special biscuits for the car ride?"

Sybil sat up. "I hope so. She loves those...don't you, darling?" Maddie cooed in response before going back to chew on the material of Tom's undershirt. "Here, I'll take her and bring her downstairs. You need to get changed and bring the car around."

Tom sprung up and handed their child to Sybil. "Keegan is bringing it around for us," Tom said, referring to the young chauffeur they had recently hired. He couldn't have been any older than nineteen, and he was always especially polite to Tom and Sybil.

Maddie began to cry, but was quickly mollified when she realized the person she was being given to was her own mother. Like clockwork, Sybil rocked the child to sleep. Only then, did she lean down to grab her bag of nappies, washcloths, and toys.

Tom had his shirt on now. As he buttoned his vest he turned to Sybil. She was sitting on the edge of the bed now with a sleeping Maddie in her arms. The child's large day bag was slung over her shoulder and rested on the bed for support. "Remember how easy it used to be to go to mass? Now this…" His voice trailed off, referring to the process that was their Sunday ritual.

They went to mass and returned an hour and a half later. The drive to Ripon was pleasant, but the drive home was rather rough, with the streets beginning to mud up from the falling of the rain. The downpour continued as they pulled up to the front of Downton, where rain made no qualms about pounding on the gravel below, making the soles of shoes squish as they attempted to tread quickly.

Mrs. Hughes appeared at the door to help Sybil with Maddie. Performing a task she had a million times, Sybil managed to quickly get the swaddled child and her bag out of the car and to the front door without a drop of water hitting the child's body. "Can you bring her up to the nursery to nap?" Sybil yelled through the pouring ran. The youngest Crawley girl was soaked now, right to her core.

Mrs. Hughes nodded, holding a sleeping Maddie close to her chest to keep her away from the rain splashing in from outside. "And I'll tell Mr. Young to come get the car."

Sybil softened. "We'll put it back. We're already wet. No use sending the boy out in this weather."

"Lady Sybil…" Mrs. Hughes began. But she was cut off as the young girl ran back to the car and hopped in. She watched, still holding the child, as Sybil said something to Tom, both of them laughing as Tom put the car in drive and rode off toward the back of the house.

"She knows what we're up to," Sybil said. They had finally reached the path to the back of the house. She knew this route well with every little turn and motion making her heart pound. "I do miss Dublin, but I miss this as well."

Tom looked over to her and smiled. He picked up her hand and kissed at her knuckles, still wet from the rain overhead. "You haven't ridden up front with me since we tried to elope," he reminded. "If we could afford it, I'd get us a car in Dublin, so I could drive you around and-" His voice trailed off. Luckily they were pulling into the garage, and right as Sybil's lips began to creep down his neck, Tom had a chance to put the car in park.

She went to step out, but he stopped her. "Let me," he shouted, the rain still very loud on the tin roof above. He ran around to her side of the car and let her out. She scooted over on the front seat to jump down but he stopped her. Tom pulled on her ankles, bringing her close. Sybil yelped, but quickly gave in, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as she smiled into the kiss he planted against her lips.

Sybil was straddling Tom now, kept steady by the firm hold he had on her bum. He did not bother to shut the door, but instead backed them up against the side of the car, pushing all of his weight into her. Tom watched Sybil laugh, and quickly silenced her, tasting every inch of her wet mouth that she offered up to him.

"So wet," Tom murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His hand was placed flat against the side of the car for leverage, but he was almost positive he wouldn't be able to take this friction for much longer.

Sybil pulled away. "You have no idea," she whispered before leaning down to grab Tom through his trousers. His eyes bulged at her words and the contact she had made with his warm member. She gave him a little tug, spurring him on. He obliged, picking her up again only to place her back down on the workbench near the door.

As Sybil remained grasping onto Tom, she felt his hand leave her back to push all of the oil cans and wrenches off the bench. The motion sent all forms of metal crashing to the ground. Sybil hungrily seized Tom's lips, not caring about the mess they made. This workbench had been claimed by them long ago. Maybe not in this way, but in so many others, from reading to talking about anything from politics to love.

"Do you-?"

Sybil nodded. "We're all set. I need you Tom, now," she gritted through clenched teeth. His hand was finding her now, doing its best to push up her skirt so he could feel her through the silk material of her tap pants. These were her favorite and his as well. He told her many times, and she listened, always buying more each time her and Mary ventured to London. It was a treat and a secret she'd keep from the rest of the world and only allow him to see. It was one of many, she thought.

Not even getting his pants off his hips, he was inside of her, their slicked skin dipping in and out of her. He kissed her lips, then her shoulder, thanking the rain pouring down for a stolen moment like this one.

Just as quickly as they had started all of this, it was over. Sybil hopped down off the bench to straighten out her knickers while Tom fixed his pants. The rain outside was still coming down, allowing them to take their time. When they were both sorted, Sybil leaned into Tom to place a kiss on his cheek. It was a thank you, for as rushed and urgent as they often were in their lovemaking lately, she enjoyed it all the same. Pleasure and adoration was never sacrificed and he was always one to put her climax before his own. She loved him for this and so many other things. Marriage was still simple, but it was intense sometimes too.

"Ready?" He asked. They didn't bother to clean up the mess they had left behind. Sybil, always the sensible one, had remembered to shut the passenger side door, but the oil cans and tinker tools were still on the dirt floor of the garage, now beginning to coat themselves in mud as the moisture from outside let itself in. They'd stay there until Keegan returned the next morning, forced to make his own assumptions about the state of the building.

Sybil nodded, grabbing his hand to force them both into a trot toward the back door of the house. Not once had Sybil ever been to this part of the estate before, much less through the servant's door. She felt daring, and Tom must have felt it too because he smiled at her and she smiled back and then suddenly they were laughing as they shuffled in through the door.

Thomas and Mrs. Hughes stopped, taking in the young couple. Tom immediately straightened, but Sybil, still with the confidence he had given her, pulled on his hand and tugged them down the hall toward the staircase leading upstairs.

At the top, she pulled off his hat and placed it on her own head, covering the curls she was sure were matted down around her face. Sybil dropped her head back to laugh again before running off up the grand staircase. Tom followed her, enjoying how their actions mimicked the teenagers they had given up long ago. They weren't those people anymore but part of them always would be.

Remembering who she was, Sybil stopped at the door to the nursery. Tom ran into her backside, peeking over her shoulder to stare at their daughter sleeping soundly.

"We made that," he whispered causing Sybil to laugh.

"We did," she replied, before turning around to capture his lips against hers. They were lost in the moment but she quickly took them out of it, running off down the hall to their room. Once again, Tom followed. He beat her, picking her up to carry her across the threshold.

Once inside, she threw down his hat and her coat. Tom was loving this side of her the more he saw it. In a way, he had seen it before, remembering it best when his mother caught them lost in a kiss on her doorstep. But this was different. She was at her own home and acting like this, and even though her parents were far away in Scotland, she couldn't help but to think she'd be this way if they were here.

"Take your pants off," Sybil stated plainly. She tied her silk robe and was just before him in that and the camisole she wore underneath. He imagined she had changed into knickers as well, but he couldn't see those, even with as short as both over-garments were.

Tom looked over at her and just smirked. "Impatient are we?"

"We already made love in the garage. I just want to spend the day in bed with my husband."

Tom was in just his briefs now. He stepped into her and nipped at her neck. Instinctively, he placed his hands gently on her hips and brought her closer to him.

"Hi," she whispered, pulling away. Then, she ran over to their bed and jumped atop it. She allowed her body to fall back, onto the plush pillows and the soft duvet.

After finding out about her son's incident (or "stupidity", as she called it) Helen sent Sybil and Tom a box of their things. Inside, more of Tom's clothing, a few books they had left behind, and most importantly, the duvet from their bed. Sybil remembered opening the large package and immediately pulling the comforter up to touch her cheeks. When Tom returned home from work he found her, cuddled under their old bedcovering reading a book. It was spring then, and definitely not the time to cover up, but he soon joined her, missing the memories this blanket once held as they both thought of all the news ones they could create, even back at Downton.

"Are you going to leave a girl waiting?"

Tom smiled, walking over to the bed. "C'mere."

Sybil obliged, crawling to his side of the bed so she could curl up against him. She was happy he put his robe on over his briefs. Sybil untied the flannel material, immediately reaching up to draw circles up and down his chest. She paid special attention to the tufts of hair that dotted his skin. Though she'd never truly be able to articulate such a thing, it was sexy that the same person she used to view as just her best friend, a boy then, had grown up to be such a strong man.

Tom smoothed back Sybil's still wet hair and kissed her forehead. "Mass was nice,"

Sybil cast a questioning gaze up at her husband. "Mass? That's what you're commenting on? Mass?"

Tom played along. "The ladies at church love Maddie."

Sybil smiled. "Everyone loves Maddie. She's the best little girl," she began.

A knock sounded at the door, causing Tom and Sybil to look over. "Lady Sybil, Mr. Branson," Mrs. Hughes called out. "Did you want a tray brought up?"

"No thank you!" Sybil shouted back. And then she followed it with words Tom never thought he'd hear: "We're pretending we're in Dublin."

There was a silence, and then Mrs. Hughes began again. "Excuse my ignorance but what does that mean?" She was confused, but also amused at the way Tom and Sybil had acclimated to life at Downton so quickly. Part of her was proud too, knowing that all those years would eventually bring them to this exact moment.

"It means-" Tom began, but his own insecurity at shouting at someone he both respected and used to take orders from made him self-conscious. Sybil urged him on though, a smile bright and wife painting her cheeks. "It means we'd like to come down to the kitchen and make our own meals."

"Lunch and dinner!" Sybil added.

"Alright, milady," Mrs. Hughes spoke in defeat. Both Tom and Sybil heard the housekeeper walk away and immediately burst into a fit of laughter, with Sybil hiding her head in the crook of Tom's neck.

"I read the letter your mother sent. Katherine's enjoying our flat, and she's seeing a boy."

Tom looked away. "I saw…"

Sybil sat up. "That's not fair, Tom. She's a good girl and this Kevin boy seems great too."

"I just don't like her living in the flat alone."

"Why? Because she's a woman and Ireland is about to catapult into war or because she had a boyfriend? You know, I don't really think either are a good enough excuse. She's doing us a favor by staying there and-"

Tom pressed a finger to Sybil's lips. She stopped talking immediately. "I just worry about her. The same way I worried about you when I left. She's too smart for her own good. She'll get herself in trouble with some of the things she says."

"She won't get herself in trouble. She'll be fine. Everyone will be fine."

"You always say that."

Sybil cocked her head. "And have I been wrong yet?" Tom rolled his eyes. He lifted the duvet for her, wanting her body pressed into his side again. Sybil was all too happy to oblige. "I'll go back with you…"

Tom looked down to her. His hand rested lazily on her head, rubbing small circles on her forehead with his thumb."I go where you go. I gave up that right a long time ago. I didn't miss Dublin much when I worked here and then I didn't work here and you came back with me and suddenly it meant so much but it wasn't the place...it was you."

Sybil looked up at her husband. She knew better than to allow her eyes to settle on him fully though. Such a look would send them both further into this then they were ready to devote time to. "Still, I will. Madeleine has to know where she was conceived." Then finally: "Dublin changed my life."

Tom looked down, a cocky smile playing itself across his face. "I thought I did that?"

"That goes without saying."

Thanks for reading!

x. Elle