Chapter Twenty Three
Settling In
On time, and at 6pm precisely, the Rome Express departed from beneath the magnificent arched glass roof of the Gare de Lyon, the imposing Paris terminus of the Paris Lyon Méditerranée Railway Company, and headed southwards, bound first for Laroche.
While the express slowly wove its way through the intricate, labyrinthine tangle of railway lines which led southwards from the French capital, along with their fellow passengers, the Bransons and the Crawleys settled themselves into the various compartments assigned to them, all of which were both beautifully appointed, luxuriously furnished, each with its own wash basin, the marquetry on the panelled walls being formed of a delightful pattern of flowers clustered in a variety of baskets.
Although for the time being at least, the compartments were still laid out for daytime use, later all that would change as, while dinner was being served in the dining car, the stewards would see to it that they were readied and made up as sleeping berths for the overnight run south eastwards through France.
After Laroche their overnight journey would take them by way of Dijon, the capital of Burgundy famous both for its wines and its mustard, Aix-les-Bains, the spa town where the foothills of the Alps would be reached, then on through Chamberey, St. Jean de Maur, and Modane; thereafter passing beneath the Alps by means of the eight and a half mile long Mont Cenis Tunnel, and thence down into Italy.
All the compartments were of two berths, although, naturally, Matthew and Mary had two adjoining, one of which was to serve as a dressing and sitting room. Tom and Sybil were next door and on the other side of them was the compartment shared by Edith and young Max. Saiorse and Rebecca occupied a fourth, while Danny, Robert, Simon and Bobby shared two further compartments, the elder boys in one and the younger two in the other. The two berth compartment separating those of the adults from those of the children was allotted to Nanny Bridges and Mary's maid Hodges.
Beautifully appointed or not, the compartments were not exactly large and, on entering their own and looking about him, catching Sybil's eye, Tom had raised his own eyes heavenwards on then finding out from the young steward, who, despite Sybil's voluble protests, was insisting on helping "Madame" unpack, that when at last they were made up, there would be but two single beds: one above the other.
Having curtly told the dark-haired steward that they would indeed see to their own luggage, which obviously caused the young Frenchman some considerable degree of consternation, Tom thrust a bright, newly-minted five franc coin into his hand by way of recompense for the man's injured pride. Out in the corridor, shoving the hastily proferred coin into his pocket, the young steward reflected on the fact that there really was no accounting for the curious habits of some foreigners.
Once the steward had finally departed, closing the door firmly behind him and slipping the latch, having finished unpacking their two suitcases themselves, within the snug privacy of their compartment, Tom came to stand behind Sybil who, having shed both her coat and hat, was now standing gazing thoughtfully out of the window as the train gathered speed through the southern suburbs of Paris.
Breathing in the scent of her perfume, Tom gently nibbled his wife's ear.
"Now, darlin', before we're disturbed by the children, just what more was it you wanted to say to me, about what Edith had to tell you and Mary?"
"I'll tell you everything later" Sybil said softly.
"That's what you told me when we boarded the train back in Calais. But all you then said by way of explanation was that young Max wasn't very well, that he has some kind of blood disorder. Hardly very illuminating!" Tom smiled.
"Well, it's a bit more than that". Sybil bit her lip.
"So I gathered. You know, neither you, nor Mary for that matter, can hide how you're both feeling. It's written all over your faces. And you in particular, well, I can read you like a book. So, I know something's wrong. Really wrong". Tom looked expectantly at Sybil, raised an eyebrow.
"Not now love, please. I'll tell you it all later, promise. Just hold me", whispered Sybil gently.
Tom needed no second bidding on that count and, slipping his arms around Sybil's still slender waist, nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he whispered tenderly, appreciating nonetheless that whatever it was that was on her mind was obviously serious.
"No, not really. But I'll be fine".
"That's not what I asked you" he said softly.
Sybil shook her head, cupped Tom's face in her hands.
"I'll tell you all about it later. Promise".
At that Tom smiled. After almost thirteen years of marriage, he knew her well enough, knew that if Sybil did not want to talk about something, then there was no point trying to force the issue. Whatever it was that was troubling her, she would come round and tell him all about it in due course. So, with that in mind, simply nodding his assent, Tom promptly changed the subject, remarking instead upon the singular injustice of the separate beds, observing that in the thirteen years since they had been married, the number of times they had actually slept apart, could be numbered on the fingers of one hand.
"So, just where am I supposed to sleep then?" asked Tom doubtfully, when Sybil said she would take the lower of the two berths.
"Up above me darling… which won't be that different to how you often are" she said provocatively, moaning softly against him, as from behind her, she felt his hands upon her, cupping both her breasts through the filmy silkiness of her dress, could feel, beneath his trousers, his arousal beginning to quicken. Given what she and Mary had both learned from Edith in the salle d'attente back in distant Calais, sex had been the last thing on Sybil's mind, but now, here in the warmth of Tom's arms, she found herself surrendering willingly to his practised ministrations.
"Why can't we sleep together in your single bed? It could be rather fun" said Tom suggestively, continuing to both nuzzle her neck and knead her breasts.
"I'm sure it would, but I doubt we'd sleep very much… if at all" giggled Sybil
"Well then…"
"There… really… isn't… room, darling" said Sybil languidly, while at the same time turning around contentedly in her husband's arms. Glancing down, she saw the evidence of his erection hard beneath his trousers.
"Sorry" Tom mumbled.
"There's nothing to apologise for my darling".
"God, Sybil, you have no idea…" growled Tom.
"What I do to you?" asked Sybil slipping her hands lower until they rested on the front of Tom's trousers.
Tom whimpered, mutely nodded his head.
"Oh. I think I do Mr. Branson" she said softly, as slowly, and with her own equally practised hands, deftly, she began to unbutton the fly of his trousers.
Later…
"Well, for one thing, I'm definitely not sleeping up top, for sure!" announced Tom decisively.
"Why on earth not?"
"I can't!"
"Why can't you?" asked Sybil.
"Because…"
But before Tom could continue with his explanation, there was a sudden jolt, causing them both to stumble against each other several times as the carriage suddenly begun to oscillate repeatedly back and forth, as the long train clattered over another seemingly never-ending web of points. At last, having passed through the junction of lines, the carriage ceased its swaying, and Tom and Sybil regained their balance.
"Because what?"
"Because I… I get vertigo.
"Vertigo?" repeated Sybil woodenly. "Really?"
Tom nodded his affirmation of the same.
"Yes, vertigo".
"I don't recall you suffering from vertigo when we went walking in the Wicklow Mountains last summer".
"Well, that was in Ireland. This is France".
"Does that really make a difference, I mean…to your… vertigo, the country you happen to be in at the time?" asked Sybil with a wry smile.
"Yes" said Tom promptly, trying his best and losing the battle to keep a straight face.
"Vertigo" repeated Sybil again.
"Yes, vertigo".
"What, all of six feet off the ground?" asked Sybil, with a lofty raise of her eyebrows looking first at the floor, then to the ceiling of their compartment, and back again, while Tom, with his endearing lop-sided grin, readily nodded his outright assent.
"Anyway, it will be a damned sight more than six feet… when we cross over the Alps later tonight" he said smugly.
"Actually darling, from what Danny and Robert both told me, the train will pass through the Alps by a very long tunnel. So that argument won't wash with me Mr. Branson".
Tom grimaced.
"Well, it's still…"
"My, my, Mr. Branson. First sea sickness and now vertigo. You really don't have much luck with your travelling, do you? Whatever is to be done with you, darling?" asked Sybil playfully.
"Let me share your bed?" wheedled Tom plaintively.
"We'll have to see now, won't we" said Sybil softly, her eyes alight with mischief, and the tip of her tongue probing Tom's delectable mouth provocatively, hinting of more delightful pleasures, of the kind they had just shared, and yet to come.
A moment later and there came a light tap on their compartment door, causing them, reluctantly, to slowly begin to break apart.
"Yes?" asked Tom somewhat more brusquely than he intended.
The door opened and Matthew's head appeared slowly round the corner. Seeing Sybil enfolded in her husband's arms, the earl of Grantham grinned; some things never changed.
"Oh don't mind me!"
"Don't worry, we won't" laughed Sybil.
Matthew smiled.
"I just came to see how you were settling in" he asked affably.
"It's a bit poky, but we're managing" said Tom.
"I can see that!" Matthew quipped.
Tom blushed red,
"It's only for one night though" said Sybil reaching for Tom's hand.
"Mary said much the same thing",
"Really?"
"Well, more or less. What she actually said was there wasn't room to swing a cat!"
"Do you have a cat to swing?" asked Tom with a laugh.
"Well, er, no!" chuckled Matthew.
"That's what I told Mary, Still, as you say, it's only for one night and then we'll be sampling the delights of Florence!"
"Does Mary know?"
"Know what?" asked Matthew. He looked quizzically at his brother-in-law, saw the merry twinkle in Tom's eye; knew what it betokened.
"That we'll be sampling the delights of… Florence?"
Tom chuckled as his elegantly clad sister-in-law appeared in the doorway. Turning, Matthew grinned broadly at his wife; Mary shook her head, and smiled at her brother-in-law.
"Yes, thank you Tom, but I've already heard all about the delights of… Florence, Honestly, Sybil, when these two get together!" Mary laughed. "What I came to say was that the steward informed us that dinner will be served in the dining car about half past eight. Edith will be joining us. She was going to have her dinner served on a tray in her own compartment, so that she could be with Max, but I think I've managed to talk her out of that. Sybil, darling, I was wondering if it would be easier for you, if you and I change for dinner in our second compartment. Tom and Matthew could use this one". She paused, and then smiled.
Knowing her elder sister as she did, Sybil sensed immediately that something else lay behind Mary's kind offer of assistance. That being so, instead of saying that she and Tom would manage, that she would change for dinner here in their own compartment, Sybil nodded, seemingly taking Mary's suggestion at face value, and readily assenting to it,
"Thank you Mary. That's very kind of you".
"Well that's settled then. I'll send Hodges round in due course to collect all your things".
Author's Note:
Created in the mid-nineteenth century, the Paris Lyon Méditerranée Railway (PLM) served the south east of France, with a main line connecting Paris with the Côte d'Azur. In 1938 the company was absorbed into the state-owned SNCF.
In 1932, the layout and the internal decor of the sleeping car used by the Bransons and the Crawleys was as described. Indeed, the coach still exists today and now forms part of the Venice-Simplon Orient Express. Also in 1932, the route of the Rome Express, southwards from Paris, was as stated and that same year, a new five franc piece was issued by the French Treasury; so the coin Tom gave the young steward could well have been one of those newly minted!