And now the explanation to *how* Tom got involved in fighting for the British...

Chapter Seven

Tom was met with quiet once again, though this time it was because William seemed to be far too shocked at his revelation.

"Good God…" William whispered, something which Tom did find a little ironic, coming from an angel, but chose to keep the comment to himself. William then surprised him by reaching out and clutching at his arm. "Then what?"

Tom sighed, looked ahead at the foggy trench, and after stuffing his hands into his pockets, began to walk, as if he had somewhere to go. William immediately caught up with him and matched his stride, and for a while, both of them just did that…walked. But Tom knew William was waiting patiently for him to continue with his story, and finally reveal at last, what brought him to France and dropped him in the middle of this war.

"Eventually…I came to," he began, his jaw cracking slightly as he fuzzily recalled Larry Grey and several other men leaping upon him and seeming to take great pleasure in beating him. Three against one; no doubt in their eyes that was fair. "And I quickly realized…I was no longer in the garage at Downton."

William didn't ask for him to clarify; where else would he be? Tom remembered that moment as if it were yesterday. His eyes were swollen over from the bruises that covered his face; he could taste dried blood on his cracked lip, and his body was in such agony, he could only imagine the blue and purple blemishes that covered him from head to toe.

Any confusion he had felt at first disappeared as he remembered Sybil, somewhere off to the side, struggling against Mr. Napier who was holding her back, Mr. Grey telling Mr. Napier to take her back to the house, Sybil screaming the entire time…

"I was lying on a cot and rolled right off, falling onto my hands and knees, and then I heard his voice, telling me to 'get up'—"

"Whose voice?"

Tom closed his eyes and sighed. "Lord Grantham," he finally answered.

Silence passed between them for a moment. In all his time at Downton, Tom had never seen Lord Grantham speak harshly to William or overhear him speak ill of the footman. And despite what had transpired between both he and the Earl, Tom still, even now, stood by what he had said to Sybil once upon a time, about thinking Robert Crawley a decent employer, and so he regretted a little, in condemning the man before an angel. But William wanted to know his story, and it would be impossible to tell it without mentioning what had transpired in that prison cell…

December, 1916
Downton Village Prison…later that night

"GET UP!"

Tom lifted his head from where he had fallen, and squinted through his swollen eyes at the face of Sybil's father, who was sitting in a chair, gripping a walking stick and glaring back at him in both bewilderment and resentment.

"How dare you…" Lord Grantham began. "How DARE YOU attack my daughter!"

It was hard to speak, but he would not be silent. "I…" he coughed. "I DIDN'T attack her," he defended.

Lord Grantham snorted at this. "Larry said you were found pressing her against a car; that your…" he gritted his teeth then. "That your…hands…were all over her!"

"No," Tom growled, despite the pain he was in. No point in hiding and holding back now!

Lord Grantham's eyes widened and he shot to his feet. "You deny it!?"

"I love Sybil—"

"Lady Sybil," Lord Grantham growled.

"I love her," Tom pressed forward. "And she loves me!"

At that, Lord Grantham began to laugh. "This is…this is a folly! A ridiculous, juvenile mess!"

Now Tom was the one gritting his teeth. "It's the truth," he growled. "I love her and I've asked her to marry me—"

"Good God!" Lord Grantham's laugh grew even louder. "This is…this is…this is utter madness!" He continued to laugh and Tom continued to seethe. "I…I feel like 'Alice' having fallen down the rabbit hole…"

So did he; a mad spiral down a bottomless pit. "She's accepted—"

"Out of the question!" Lord Grantham snarled, all traces of laughter now gone. He glared at Tom, and despite his haggard state, Tom did his best to straighten himself and lift his chin. As much as Lord Grantham may wish to deny it, the truth of the matter was that his youngest daughter was in love with the chauffeur and had had agreed to marry him, even if sadly, nothing now came of it.

Lord Grantham looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I can't believe it," he muttered, shaking his head and looking disappointed. "I can't believe that…that this entire time while you've been bowing and scraping, you've also been seducing my daughter behind my back—"

"I DON'T BOW AND SCRAPE!" Tom roared, gripping the bars of his cell, spit flying from his mouth and hitting Lord Grantham in the face. Good; let me have the satisfaction of watching him remove his handkerchief to wipe it away. His grip on the bars remained firm, even when a prison guard appeared in the doorway behind Lord Grantham, holding a stick and looking ready to use it on his fingers should the Earl give the word. But Lord Grantham did no such thing; he removed his handkerchief as Tom had predicted, and wiped his face clean, all the while glaring back at him.

"I don't bow and scrape…" Tom repeated, his voice lower in volume, but still hot and angry. "And give your daughter some credit for knowing her own mind!"

At this, Lord Grantham's eyes widened in shock. Clearly the man was not used to be spoken back to, especially by a former servant. "How dare you speak to me in that tone!" he growled. "I should leave you to rot in this place! It's what you deserve!"

Tom had honestly heard enough. He wasn't prepared to listen to insults, so he turned his back on his former employer, but was stopped short by Lord Grantham's question.

"I understand that you received your summons?"

How did he…? Tom shook his head. The envelope had been left in the garage. Clearly they had found it.

"That's your saving grace, then," Lord Grantham went on. "Otherwise, I would press charges and make sure you spent the rest of your life in a place like this."

Tom looked over his shoulder, and suddenly he felt a great sense of "joy" in telling this man who wanted more than anything to go back to war and fight but who had been denied because of his age, that he…a young, able-bodied man, had absolutely no intentions of answering his summons.

"However, I have been told that you will not go."

Tom was taken by surprise. What? How…how did Lord Grantham know—?

"Sybil told me."

At the mention of her name, Tom gripped the cell bars once more and pressed himself forward. "Where is she? What did you do to her?" His face paled at the thought of her being in a space that was shared with Larry Grey.

Lord Grantham stiffened and looked back at him, somewhat offended by Tom's "implication". "She's safe; she's in her room, where she should be!"

"She's in a prison, no different than me," he muttered.

"How dare you—!"

"How dare you!" Tom countered, growling back at Lord Grantham. "How dare you let that bastard sit at your dinner table after what he did to her! How dare you put your pride and the reputation of Downton ahead of your own daughter!"

"ENOUGH!" Lord Grantham roared, and Tom swore that the prison walls shook. But he held his ground, never blinking, never flinching, just staring back at his judge and jailer, all traces of respect gone. He had nothing to left to lose…

Both men continued to glare at each other, Lord Grantham's chest rising and falling as he breathed, his jaw tense, not unlike Tom's. Then…he sank back down onto his chair, and muttered something to the guard who was standing just a few feet behind him (Tom and forgotten all about the man), and the guard murmured something in return, before glaring at Tom himself…and taking hold of the door which he had opened to enter…and shutting it behind him, leaving both earl and chauffeur in private. Now what?

"…You say you love my daughter?"

Tom was surprised by Lord Grantham's question, but quickly overcame it and with his head held high, answered, "Aye; with my whole heart."

Lord Grantham eyed him for a moment. "Sybil said something very similar," he muttered, which Tom couldn't help but smile at. Even if she were locked up, he could easily imagine the fire in her eyes as she glared back at her father, demanding his release and that she be taken to him, defending him and condemning Mr. Grey, and when confronted by her family and told that she was being foolish and that this was all just some late-blossoming adolescent phase she was going through, he could practically hear the echo of her words as she put them all I their place. That's my girl…

"This is what comes from spoiling her," Lord Grantham muttered, more to himself than Tom. "The mad clothes, the nursing—"

"Oi!" he interrupted, glaring at the Earl. "Don't talk about her like that," he growled. "She's a wonderful nurse—and shame on you for not seeing it. Shame on you and anyone else for overlooking who she really is."

He expected another roar from the Earl for his bold words. At the very least, he expected a retort of some kind. But instead, he was met with silence, and Robert Crawley simply seemed to eye him for a moment, as if…assessing something.

"You said earlier that you love Sybil with your 'whole heart', is that right?"

What was he getting at? "Aye…"

"And clearly you 'love' her enough that you were willing to stay here to be with her, even though you knew that by doing so, it put you at risk for being summoned by the army…"

What was he talking about? What was he trying to say?

"So by that conclusion, you 'love' Sybil more than you love your precious Ireland."

Tom growled, not liking one bit the way the Earl of Grantham spoke of his homeland. "I love Sybil with my entire being…with all that I am, is that what you want to hear?"

"Is ANY of this ANYTHING a parent wishes to hear?" Lord Grantham muttered, though again he was looking at Tom with some sort of…interest. "Prove it to me."

Tom's brow furrowed. "Prove it to you?" he repeated. What did he mean by that? Prove what to him?

"Prove to me how much you love my daughter."

Tom's eyes widened. Seriously? Lord Grantham was asking him to—

"Answer your summons, and join the British Army."

Despite his swollen eyes, Tom blinked. Had…had he just heard…?

"Answer your summons, and join the British Army," Lord Grantham repeated. "Go and fight and do your part."

"My part!?" Tom spat, bile rising up in his stomach at Lord Grantham's insinuation. "Fight for a country that isn't my own? For a government that denies basic freedoms to Irish—"

"I thought you loved Sybil more than Ireland?"

Tom's words died in his throat. He stared at Lord Grantham…and began to realize just what the man was doing.

He had him trapped. Lord Grantham was trying to prove a point, trying to get Tom to say something and "prove" that he didn't really love Sybil, that this was just him trying to "seduce" her, while at the same time, watch him struggle while trying to be true to himself and his beliefs.

This was further proven, when Lord Grantham softly explained, "If you love my daughter as deeply as you claim to, then that means that you would put her before anything else…including your opinions and values, is that not so?"

Oh God in heaven…

"So…prove it to me, Branson; prove to me that you are willing to set those values aside, that you are willing to sacrifice your beliefs, in the name of 'love', and answer your summons."

Tom stared, his mouth open but no sound coming out.

Don't do it. Part of what Sybil loves about you is your beliefs and principles, even if she doesn't agree with all of them. You wouldn't want her to sacrifice those very things for you!

"If I do this…" Tom managed to find his voice. "What does that mean for us?"

Lord Grantham frowned. "Us?"

Tom lifted his chin. "For Sybil and myself."

Lord Grantham eyed him for a moment…and rose to his feet, taking a tentative step towards the bars that separated the both of them. "…If you do this...join the army, go to war…and come back when it's all finished…" he paused and Tom pressed his bruised face against the bars, holding his breath. "…Then…then you and Sybil will have my blessing."

A long, ragged breath left his lungs then.

"You and Sybil will have my blessing…"

"You mean that?" Tom whispered, not daring to hope but needing to hear Lord Grantham further explain himself.

At his question, the man seemed to bristle. "Of course I mean it," he muttered. "Go and fight; survive the War, and when you come back—IF Sybil still wills it…then…then I'll not stand in your way. I will let you then marry my daughter."

Tom wanted to retort that neither he nor Sybil needed his blessing, but sadly, Tom knew that they still needed Lord Grantham's permission, as Sybil wasn't yet twenty-one.

"You're hoping I die over there…" Tom whispered.

Lord Grantham gasped, looking most offended at the accusation. "I…I wouldn't…" he coughed and took a few steps back. "Look, Branson, I'm providing you a chance here, a real chance! Go and fight and again, if Sybil still claims to love you—"

"She does," Tom growled. And I will bet on her every time…

The Earl's jaw cracked, but he didn't try to retort further. "You really have no other choice; if you refuse this offer, then I will make sure you spend the rest of your life rotting in a prison," he growled. "And there will be no hope for you and Sybil then."

Of all his threats, Tom knew this to be Lord Grantham's greatest. He had no doubt the man would make good on it, and see that he was locked away forever, pressing charges that he had attacked Sybil, perhaps even going so far that he had been "successful" in "seducing" her, while at the same time painting him as a villain for being a contentious objector. Yes, there was little doubt that Lord Grantham would do all these things…all in an effort to keep he and Sybil apart.

And he knew that his chances of surviving in the War were extremely slim. If he took this offer, he would more or less be signing his death warrant, which was exactly what Lord Grantham was hoping, even if the man refused to admit it.

Don't do it! Sybil will never forgive you for doing it!

But what other choice did he have?

Right now…it was the only option that had a possible future for the both of them.

"GUARD!"

His shout startled Lord Grantham, and the guard came rushing back inside, looking confused. "Your Lordship, is something wrong—?"

"Do I have your word, then?" Tom asked Lord Grantham, ignoring the guard but grateful for his presence because he knew it would make lying more difficult if the Earl of Grantham was not being truthful with his offer. And didn't his kind always think they have a monopoly on honor? "On your honor as a gentleman," Tom pressed forward. "And before this witness, do I have your word that if I do as you ask, answer my summons and join the army and go to fight…that when I return—"

"If you return," Lord Grantham corrected.

"When I return," Tom countered. "That you will give both Sybil and I your blessing, and not try to stop us from getting married?"

The guard's eyes widened and now both his and Tom's eyes were locked on Lord Grantham, waiting for his answer. He may have set a trap for Tom just now, but Tom had found a way to drag him into that same trap.

After what seemed like another endless pause, Lord Grantham let out a sigh and then nodded his head. "Yes…you have my word."

Tom thrust his hand through the bars, holding it out for Lord Grantham to shake, ignoring the guard's warning to pull it back into the cell.

Holding his gaze, the Earl took Tom's hand, shaking it briefly, before releasing it and lifting a quizzical eyebrow. "So? Does this mean what I think it means?"

Tom swallowed, wondering if he should pinch himself to make sure this wasn't a nightmare. But before he could second-guess himself another time, he looked directly into the other man's eyes and stated as firmly as his voice would allow, "Aye…I'll take your offer. I will fight."

To be continued…