Author's note
Well here we are at last - the final chapter of this story! It's taken me a long while, but I finally made it. :)
From what I can work out from the user stats, there have been more than 200 of you reading this fic pretty regularly since I started writing it, which is just overwhelming. I want to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for reading, following, favouriting and reviewing this fic, which is the first multi-chapter fic I've ever attempted (and finished), and therefore very close to my heart. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your wonderful support of me and my writing!
I've been lucky enough to make some great friends since I joined the S/T fandom, and I am dedicating this chapter to one of them, someone who has been one my greatest cheerleaders and supporters - the lovely and talented Yankee Countess. Thank you so much my dear for all your help and encouragement! I may never have written this fic if it weren't for the Tumblr message you sent after I posted the first chapter. *hug*
So - on with the wedding!
Chapter 22 – A ring of bright water
"Are you ready, Sybil?"
"Yes, coming!"
Sybil checked herself in the mirror one more time, then took a deep breath as she stepped out of their bedroom.
Tom turned from the window to look at her as she closed the door. A look of wonder and delight crossed his face, and he lifted his right hand to his heart.
"Feck, you're so beautiful! You take my breath away, a stór." He strode over to her and pulled her to him. "I can't believe... you're going to marry me today."
They kissed, long and soft, her hand stroking the back of his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. As they broke apart, he laughed, putting his fingertip to her bottom lip.
"Have I smudged your lipstick?"
"You'll be doing a lot more than that before the day's over, I hope!" She smiled and took his hand. "Anyway, you know I don't care about all of that."
She led him down the stairs and out the front door. Once they were outside, she looked up, closing her eyes and smiling. "It's snowing! That's got to be good luck, doesn't it?"
He offered her his arm. "Shall we go, milady?"
Sybil never forgot their walk together, the swirling flakes of snow giving Upper Street a gleaming, fairytale shine, making the familiar houses and shops appear as if they'd been dusted with magic.
People stopped to greet them, to take their picture, to wish them luck as they walked along. Clinging to Tom's arm, smiling at everyone she met, snow sparkling in her hair like stars, she was so glad she hadn't listened to her parents, who had tried to insist on arranging a car to transport her to the wedding.
I wouldn't have missed this, not for anything. Besides, this way I get to be with Tom...
She sneaked a glance at him. He looked so damn hot in his blue suit and dark overcoat, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, fringe falling in his eyes, a grin on his face so wide he could barely contain it.
He caught her looking at him, and dropped her a wink. "Come here to me, gorgeous girl."
He grabbed her around the waist from behind and lifted her off the ground, twirling them both around and around as the snow fell on their laughing faces. When he put her down, he kept hold of her, pulling her close to kiss the back of her neck.
"Just wait till I get you out of this dress later," he whispered, sending a tender thrill racing over her skin.
"Come on, Tom, we're nearly there. Look... it's Mary and Matthew!"
The vanguard of the Crawley family came over to meet them.
"Sybil, you look amazing!" Mary cried as she threw her arms around her sister. "Love the idea of a white coat over a white dress... so perfect for a winter wedding. And your hair is gorgeous!"
"Thanks – I had to keep it pretty simple since I did it myself."
Sybil reached up to touch her hair, which was coiled at the back of her head in a loosely braided bun. Looking ahead, she saw Edith and Anthony, sipping cappuccinos and chatting with her parents and grandmother near the Town Hall steps, and then...
Kate.
Let's get this over with.
But it was her future mother-in-law who spoke first.
"Sybil – you look lovely. What a beautiful dress."
"Thanks a lot."
Sybil smiled, her eyes not quite meeting those of the other woman as Tom headed over with Mary and Matthew to greet the rest of the Crawleys, leaving Kate and Sybil to talk.
Tom's mother spoke again, quickly. "Sybil, I know I owe you an apology for what happened at that lunch a few months back. Having Tom when I was so young and alone, I've had a hard time letting go of my desire to control things in his life, to make sure he is happy, and safe, and loved, and... well, once he and I spoke after that day I realised that you make him feel all those things, and that you are his choice." She looked into Sybil's eyes, seemingly anxious to win her over. "I'm sorry. Truly. Can you forgive me?"
"Of course, Kate. Thanks so much for saying that – it means a lot."
"You're welcome – I should have said it sooner, I know, but better late than never." Kate gave Sybil a questioning look. "That's also why I told Bridie where to find him. I finally realised it wasn't up to me to decide whether or not he knew about his child. I hope that didn't cause any trouble?"
Sybil quirked an eyebrow. "Let's say there were a few questions raised, but everything was sorted out. We both look forward to getting to know Ollie, and you will too once you meet him – he's a darling little boy."
Kate smiled fondly. "Just like his father." Sybil shared her smile and leaned forward to kiss Kate's cheek, instead finding herself wrapped in a warm embrace.
"Welcome to the family, Sybil. Let me introduce you to the other Bransons."
Kate looked around and gestured to a tall, solidly built man who was pulling at his shirt collar, which seemed a little tight. With him were two little girls, one dark, one fair.
"Kevin? Come and meet the bride."
The man took the children's hands and walked over to join Kate and Sybil.
"Sybil, I'd like you to meet Kevin Branson, Tom's stepfather, and these two are our daughters, Isolde and Deirdre."
Sybil extended her hand. "Lovely to meet you, Kevin – I'm so glad you could be here today." They shook hands and Kevin's smile lit up his rather craggy features.
Then, Sybil leaned down to Tom's half-sisters. "What beautiful names you have. Who is who? I'm Sybil."
The blonde girl spoke first. "I'm Isolde, this is Deirdre. I'm nine and she's seven." Isolde nudged her younger sister forward, but the little girl kept staring at her shoes.
"Very nice to meet you both. I hope you enjoy the wedding."
Then, the little brunette looked up, a shy smile on her lips. "Are you a princess?"
"No, Deidre, I'm just a normal woman, and I'm happy I'm soon going to be your sister."
"My sister?" Deirdre considered. "Isolde, we have a big sister!"
"Yes, you do. Now, let's find your brother." Sybil stood up, looking around for Tom, just as he came to join them and was immediately enveloped in Kate's hug.
"Mo bhuachaill," she murmured. "I'm so proud of you."
He leaned back and smiled at his mother. "Mam, I see you and Sybil have been talking. Everything OK?"
Sybil put her arm around his waist, leaning into his shoulder and smiling up at him. "Everything is good. Really good."
"That's great, sweetheart." Tom leaned down to ruffle Isolde's curls, and put his finger under Deirdre's chin. "Hey, you two. Did you meet Sybil?"
"Yes, Tom. She's going to be our sister. I never knew a sister could be so beautiful!" Isolde said.
Tom smiled at Sybil and pulled her close. "I know. Aren't we lucky she's joining our family!"
The Earl and Countess of Grantham made their way over to the Bransons, along with the Dowager Countess, and Sybil made the introductions.
"Call us Cora and Robert, please," effused the mother of the bride, at her most 'American', as her daughters would say. Robert harumphed slightly at that as Cora took his arm and squeezed it.
"Isn't it wonderful, Robert! Our darling Sybil a bride!" Cora embraced Sybil, kissing her on both cheeks, as Robert leaned over to speak with Tom.
"I know you are the man Sybil has chosen, so you have my blessing. But just remember – if you mistreat her, I will personally have you torn to pieces by wild dogs."
He gave a small smile, to let Tom know he was kidding, at least partly.
Tom returned the smile. "I'd expect nothing less."
"Papa!" Sybil was horrified. "For heaven's sake! You sound like some kind of Edwardian patriarch."
The Dowager Countess nodded in agreement. "I agree, Sybil – he does. And that is probably because he is, in his heart anyway, when it comes to you three girls."
"I know, Granny, I know." She hugged her grandmother, and then felt her sisters putting their arms around her as they came over, with their partners, to join the family group.
Sybil was flushed and radiant as she embraced Mary and Edith, looking the epitome of a bride on her wedding day. Then, Tom put his hand on her waist.
"Ready, a stór? They're calling for us."
Standing hand in hand at the front of the room, Tom and Sybil waited for the simple ceremony to begin.
The registrar, a friendly woman with short grey hair and smiling eyes, guided them through the required declaration that they were free to marry each other.
Then, Tom turned to Sybil, taking her hands in his and staring into her eyes. He spoke softly, as if they were alone:
"I pledge my love to you, and everything that I own.
I promise you the first bite of my meat and the first sip from my cup.
I pledge that your name will always be the name I cry aloud in the dead of night.
I promise to honour you above all others.
Our love is never-ending, and we will remain, forevermore, equals in our marriage.
This is my wedding vow to you."
Sybil felt the back of her throat choke up, feeling Tom squeeze her hands in encouragement as she made the same vow to him.
The bride and groom then turned around to their witnesses, Mary and Matthew, who handed them the rings. Sybil went first this time, taking Tom's left hand and looking into his eyes.
"With this ring, I give you all that I am, and all that I have, now and forever."
Tom spoke the same words as he put a ring onto Sybil's finger, secretly stroking the palm of her hand as he did so and sending a shiver down her spine.
Then, the registrar asked them to turn around and face their guests.
"Tom and Sybil, you have made the declaration prescribed by law and have made a solemn and binding contract with each other in the presence of your witnesses and your family. Therefore, I am happy to pronounce your husband and wife."
Tom grinned, pulling Sybil close. "I think that's my cue."
He bent his head and kissed her. The world swirled around her, just as the snow flakes had done outside, and she felt weak at the knees. He knew it, and tightened his grip on her before breaking their kiss.
"Every waking minute, sweetheart, don't forget," he whispered, his fingers tracing down her cheek, his eyes locked on hers.
"Hmm, hmm!" interrupted Mary, stepping forward. "You two, really! Save it for after the party!"
"Mr and Mrs Branson – we aren't quite done yet. Still some paperwork to complete." The registrar led the newlyweds over to a small table, on which lay an open book.
Tom was the first to pick up the pen, and signed his name with a flourish. Then, he handed it to Sybil, who took it and paused for a moment before pressing the pen to the page.
Sybil Branson
She looked at it and smiled. She hadn't been sure about changing her name, but now she was glad she'd decided to do it. It just felt so right.
As Mary and Matthew did their duty as witnesses, the bride and groom turned to greet their guests. Amidst the hugs and well wishes, Edith appeared at Sybil's side.
"Sybil, congratulations. I am so happy for you! Tom really does seem to be perfect for you."
"He is, Edith. He's a wonderful, wonderful man."
The two sisters hugged and Edith whispered in Sybil's ear, making her whoop for joy as she turned to Tom and grabbed his hand.
"Tom, guess what – Edith is definitely moving back to London next year, she and Anthony are getting serious. Isn't that fantastic!"
"Yes, it is. Congratulation Edith, I hope you will be... well, as happy as Sybil and I are. Right, Mrs Branson?"
"You can say that again, Mr Branson."
The loving look the Bransons shared was a quiet moment just for them in the excitement of the day, as well as a promise for their life to come.
Still chatting, everyone walked back out into the street. The snow was continuing to fall, faster than before, piling up on the footpath and settling on the rooftops.
"Weren't we clever to choose a venue that's just down the road? Come on everyone!" Sybil grabbed Tom's hand and started to walk, leading their guests further down Upper St to a restaurant a couple of blocks away.
They were all welcomed into a room where the rest of their guests were already waiting for them, a room flooded with warm light against the gloom of the day. It had small, circular tables scattered around, set with white linen, sparkling glass and shining silver, and with small flower arrangements set in their centres. Discreet wait staff circulated with trays of drinks as everyone began to mingle.
William and Daisy were the first to reach Tom and Sybil as they came inside and took off their coats.
"Congratulations, Tom - you're a lucky man!" William said with a broad grin on his normally serious face.
The two friends shook hands. "Don't I know it, mate," Tom replied, with a glance at Sybil, who was receiving a congratulatory kiss from Daisy.
Gwen came up to throw her arms around the happy couple, jumping up and down for joy.
"You did it, you did it! I'm so happy for you!"
"Thanks Gwen, I'll never forget what you did for us," Sybil said.
Imogen stepped forward for a hug, just as Thomas and Jimmy came bounding up with a couple more lads from the football team.
As Sybil watched Tom cope with their backslapping and mock punches, Mary came up behind her.
"Great choice, Sybil – I love the Almeida," she said, handing her a glass of champagne. "Now let me see your wedding ring on you!"
Sybil let her sister lift up her left hand to admire the two rings circling her fourth finger.
"It's really lovely – so unusual, too!" Mary looked at the rippling, wavy band of white gold, decorated with aquamarines and a few tiny diamonds. "And it's perfect with your engagement ring, that's so simple."
"Tom had it made for me based on a poem I love." She looked down, turning her hand so her new ring caught the light and sparkled.
"Which poem?"
"'He has married me with a ring, a ring of bright water, whose ripples spread from the heart of the sea...'"
Mary shook her head. "No, I don't know it. But the ring is perfect for it, I can see that!"
Tom came across, lifting Sybil's hand to his lips. "Admiring my wife's rings, are you?" He blushed a little at those words, and Sybil lifted her other hand to his face.
"I know, sweetheart – doesn't it feel strange, and wonderful? I haven't called you my husband yet, either." He looked at her with open adoration, and leaned down to kiss her blushing cheeks.
Matthew came over to put his arm around Mary's waist. "Congratulations, you two!"
Tom turned to greet him, shaking his hand and giving him a heartfelt smile. "Matt, I owe you one. We would never have been here if it weren't for you." He looked at Mary too. "If it weren't for both of you. Thank you so much for bringing Sybil out for a drink that night!"
Mary smiled. "Anyone can see you two are made for each other! I'm pretty proud of myself, to be honest with you."
"So am I, my darling," Matthew said, pulling her in for a kiss.
Isobel was right behind her son, and she leaned in to kiss the bride and groom, holding both their hands. "I always thought you two would marry! You are perfectly matched, in every way."
"Thanks, Isobel – we think so," Sybil said as Rosamund approached them, stylishly dressed as always.
"Sybil, congratulations my dear. I've never known anyone to be married in the town hall before, but I am sure it was delightful."
"Thanks, Rosamund. It was perfect, just what we wanted. Wait till Mary's wedding next year – that will be the full Downton extravaganza, I'm sure!"
Edith and Anthony walked over to join the group, hand in hand. "They're ushering us over to sit down, Sybil."
"Edith? Sybil told me, I'm so happy to hear the news!" Mary cried.
Sybil watched her sisters share a rare moment of harmony as they hugged each other.
Today really is magical - see, even Mary and Edith feel it!
The food was delicious, the wine was plentiful, and the conversation was buzzing when Tom stood up, bringing Sybil with him, wrapping his arm around her waist as he tapped his glass.
"Sybil and I aren't having any speeches today. Sorry, Robert!"
The Earl of Grantham gave a nod, while the Countess smiled beatifically beside him.
"We want to thank you all for coming, and for being part of this special day with us. I don't think it's any secret that I've been in love with Sybil since the moment I laid eyes on her, and today is... well, it's the most wonderful day I could ever have imagined, because she is now my wife."
He turned to his bride, still holding her to him, and touched her cheek with his other hand. "Mo bhean chéile," he murmured, the love in his voice making translation unnecessary.
Sybil felt her emotions rising up as she took her turn to speak.
"I'm not sure if you know this, everyone, but today is the anniversary of the date Tom and I met, just up the road. The moment he smiled at me that night, my life changed forever, and I can't tell you how much I love him."
She looked over at her husband, feeling a tear fall down her cheek as she spoke in a shaky voice. "One year down, my darling, the rest of our lives to go."
Matthew stood up and raised his glass. "The bride and groom!"
"The bride and groom," chorused everyone as Tom grabbed Sybil, bending her backwards with a theatrical flourish and kissing her deeply, to general cheers and claps.
Sybil and Tom had thanked all their guests and waved them out into the early evening gloom. The worst of the storm had passed by then, leaving everything white and glittering under the street lights.
He put his arm around her shoulders. "Let's go home."
They walked back towards their little flat, cuddled close, exchanging a few words from time to time but otherwise content to be lost in their love.
When they were nearly home, he stopped. "Hold on a minute, I've got an idea."
The next thing she knew, he was scooping her up into his arms. "What are you doing, silly?"
He kissed the top of her head. "Please let me, Sybil. I've dreamed of carrying you over the threshold!"
She subsided, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. Even through the heavy fabric of his coat she could feel his heart beating fast, and she knew hers was keeping the same rhythm.
After a dozen or so steps, they arrived at the street door. He opened it and carried her up the stairs to their own front door. Once that was open too, he carried her inside.
But he didn't stop there. Instead, he kept walking into their bedroom and dropped her on the bed.
"I've waited long enough to ravish my wife. Clothes, off, now!" he growled, throwing his coat and jacket on the floor and lying down beside her.
He began fumbling with her coat buttons until she stopped him, quirking an eyebrow at him and smiling flirtatiously.
"Really, Branson, I thought I gave the orders..." She never finished her sentence as her husband's mouth crashed fiercely onto hers.
Sybil didn't speak again for a long, long time after that, except to cry Tom's name aloud, just as she had vowed she would.
The End
A/N -
This may not be the last of this story - ever since I conceived it, I've had an epilogue in mind, so it might be back for one last fling!
A few references:
- You can get an idea of Sybil and Tom's wedding outfits from the post I made over on Tumblr.
- The geography of North London, my old stomping ground when I lived there, is correct - I thought setting Tom and Sybil's wedding lunch at the Almeida restaurant, which is right next to the theatre of the same name where Jessica Brown Findlay recently appeared on stage, would be a nice touch! By the way, it's quite common in the UK (in my experience) to have a smaller group for the ceremony, with additional guests arriving for the celebration afterwards, and I imagined Tom and Sybil in this story wanting to keep the actual ceremony very small indeed. Unlike the wedding Mary and Matthew are planning! :)
- The vows Sybil and Tom make are traditional Celtic wedding vows based on the reading I have done - I thought they would want to add an Irish touch to the ceremony.
- "a stór" = "my darling", "mo bhuachaill" = "my boy", "mo bhean chéile" = "my wife" in Irish Gaelic, per Google Translate.
- The poem Sybil quotes (from which the chapter title comes, of course) is real - it's called "The Marriage of Psyche", by Kathleen Raine, and it's simply gorgeous - romantic and beautiful. Have a read if you like - and see if you get as many S/T feels from it as I do!
Thank you again so very much, all of you, for reading. It's been a very emotional journey for me writing this fic (my first, as I mentioned) and I really hope you enjoyed it! As always, I would love to hear what you think.