Epilogue: 1938
Joy overwhelmed Robert as their carriage made its way to Buckingham Palace. His Sybbie would be presented tonight both because of the crucial traditions of England and, even more importantly, gave her the ceremony that she deserved.
His chest truly might explode tonight as he gazed at both Sybbie and Cora, sitting on the other side of the carriage. Sybbie looked so much like her mother on the day of her presentation, with her white silk gown and little bows in her hair.
Memories of Sybil's success in coming out twenty-four years ago danced through Robert's head. Then there was toddler Sybbie, capturing his heart fully when she'd called him "Donk." A young girl who'd enjoyed skipping rope outside Downton, while delighting in her studies with the tutor. Then she was a bit older, serving as a bridesmaid for Tom and Lucy's wedding, and taking care of her new baby sister, despite how Robert's heart ached to see her move to Brompton. And just last spring, Robert had invited her to eat at his dining room for he and Cora's anniversary party.
Now she would be presented to the king and become a young lady.
Cora sat next to her, with her sparkling silver gown and matching sapphire pendent, and Robert heart burst as he realized that as much as Sybbie resembled her mother, she resembled Cora even more, as they both possessed the same dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.
Sybbie looked almost identical to Cora when Robert had first met her, and it made him love them both more than ever. "You are both especially gorgeous tonight," he said softly, his eyes drinking in them both once again.
Smiling, Cora said, "thank you darling," in a way that proved her love. And even though she had a few wrinkles on her face, her pale skin still turned pink just a bit. And Robert's smile widened. He'd always loved her blush.
Sybbie giggled and blushed even more than Cora. "Oh, Donk, you are so sweet."
Robert paused for a moment. He wished he could be as expressive as both of them, but he would always be the stoic British man thorough and thorough. "Ah, Sybbie, I'd truly like to, ah thank you for telling your father you would be presented." His eyes studied his own formal uniform instead of Sybbie herself as he spoke.
Sybbie giggled again, and Robert gazed back into her beautiful blue eyes. "I don't see the harm in doing something that is so important to you, especially as I can do it before I go to Queen Margaret's this fall."
Inwardly, Robert sighed at the mention that his Sybbie still planned to go to school and become a teacher soon. A part of him hoped she would meet a proper gentleman during her season and decide to marry right away instead of disappearing into a world where Robert couldn't follow her.
But as he gazed into her Sybbie's eager expression, he knew that was unlikely. She was so much like her mother, choosing a path where she could help others, no matter how dangerous it might be. Meanwhile, Cora reached across the carriage and stroked his arm, as if knowing he needed comfort automatically.
Robert smiled softly.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Much later that evening, Robert knew his face positively beamed as he watched Cora present their Sybbie from afar.
His eyes weren't as sharp as they once were, and even when Rose was presented, Robert had to peer through the crowd of other lords and ladies to see them. Now he peered and squinted through to see two forms that resembled one of those impressionistic paintings his Cora was so fond of.
But it didn't matter, because Robert knew exactly what was happening. Cora introduced their Sybbie to the king and curtsied herself. Then Sybbie would do the same. After all, His wife had presented young ladies from Mary and Edith, to Sybil, to Rose, and now finally their oldest granddaughter. She was an expert at choosing the right gowns, showing the appropriate homage to the king, and curtsying in a way that could be modeled.
What more could a man want in a woman?
Sybbie's tiny form moved a bit, and Rober knew she was curtsying. He found he didn't even mind that much that it was to George VI instead of Edward VIII, he was so filled with love and pride for Sybbie. Soon, he would have the honor of dancing with his granddaughter at her ball, and his heart somehow warmed even more as he pictured the two of them spinning around the ballroom together.
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OOOOOOO
Tom Branson entered the ballroom at the Ritz, his eyes searching for Lady Grantham. Lucy was rather anxious about attending an event at the grand hotel and insisted that he ask if it was acceptable for her to wear her mother's gold bracelet to Sybbie's ball, although gold was apparently no longer in fashion.
Tom understood Lucy's discomfort all too well, as he once again remembered his struggles to fit in with the Crawley's when Sybbie had been a toddler. His eyes studied the splendor of the ballroom, in some ways it seemed more formal than the London townhouse or even Downton Abbey.
The room appeared almost twice as big as the front room at Grantham House used for Rose's ball, even without the furniture. The floor sparkled with whatever polish had been used, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the air smelled of cut fresh flowers. Lady Grantham stood in the corner of the room, her grey hair visible in the afternoon sunlight as she directed the hotel maids where to put the floral arrangements, just as she would for events at Downton.
His apparent familiarity with luxury still made Tom uneasy sometimes, but not so much that he longed to return to Ireland. Right now, all he wished to do was help Lucy feel more comfortable.
"Lady Grantham," Tom said softly but deliberately as another maid disappeared with a floral arrangement in her hands.
"Tom," Lady Grantham said with the same warm smile she gave all of their family. "What can I do for you?"
"Lucy is concerned about looking appropriate for tonight," Tom said with a sigh. "Especially as it will be held here. She sent me to ask you if it would be acceptable to wear Lady Bagshaw's gold bracelet even though gold is no longer in fashion." He told Lucy over and over not to be concerned about such things, and that it was perfectly natural for her to wish to honor her mother at Sybbie's ball by wearing her jewelry. But his wife still struggled with being accepted, especially among the aristocracy.
Laughing softly, Lady Grantham said, "Tell her not to worry, and that I understand her desire to wear Lady Bagshaw's best jewelry. I used to love wearing a silver chain when I was first married, although silver wasn't in fashion and the Dowager would lecture me against it. And you know I wear pearls more often than is strictly fashionable now, because they were gifts from Robert."
Tom smiled at her, as tension he wasn't aware he'd had disappeared from his body. "Thank you." He glanced around at the ballroom again, this time more appreciatively "You've doing well with this room, Sybbie will approve."
"Thank you so much for that, Tom," Lady Grantham said as her smile widened, showing more and more lines on her face. Then she patted his shoulder.
"I was kind of surprised that no one was more upset that we wouldn't be holding Sybbie's ball at Grantham House," Tom said, his voice low. Over the years, the Crawley's tendency to see everything they owned as their God-given right had annoyed him, and he'd braced himself for more of that as they planned to rent the Ritz Ballroom, as Grantham House no longer belonged to the Crawley family.
"Robert probably would have," Lady Grantham said, with another smile that indicated she saw her husband's faults endearingly. "But he's so happy that Sybbie will have a ball that he truly doesn't care where it is held."
Tom nodded and a surge of affection toward Lord Grantham as he was reminded once again how much he loved Sybbie. And his other two children.
"And Mary is so focused on keeping the Abbey that she doesn't have time for other worries," Lady Grantham said with a nod. Tom kept quiet, knowing that was true, but Mary also often kept her opinions to herself, except for Henry and occasionally Tom. He wouldn't be surprised to hear her complain about losing Grantham House in the agent's house when they returned.
"Edith is rather excited to be at the Ritz," Lady Grantham said brightly, unaware of Tom's private thoughts. "She's told me she'll probably find more story ideas here than if we still had Grantham House. As for me, I loved hosting the girl's balls there, but I'm perfectly fine with doing it here, too….No Liza," she said, her head turned towards one of the maids a few feet away. "Put the flowers a little more to the left…You know, when I came out, my ball was held in this hotel." Lady Grantham's blue eyes glazed, as if remembering her past fondly.
Tom stared at her, surprised, although he didn't know why. Lady Grantham was raised in America, so of course her family had no townhouse to host a ball. It was just that he thought of her as "Lady Grantham" for so long, he often forgot about that, especially as she often acted like the perfect English lady, even with her soft American accent.
"Well, I'll go back upstairs to see Lucy," he said after a moment, needing to see someone who wasn't a perfect lady, even if she was English. "She'll be happy to know you approve of her jewelry choice."
OOOOOOOOOO
Lucy stood next to Tom hours later as their Sybbie opened her ball with Lord Grantham, waltzing around the room in perfect time with the music. "She's so happy," Tom said into Lucy's ear with a sigh.
"Yes, she is," Lucy said, meeting Tom's eyes for a moment, knowing what it took for him to admit that. Then both their eyes returned to Sybbie, watching her dark blue (Lucy said it was called "royal blue") gown shine against the light of the Ritz ballroom. Her dark hair was curled and pinned on top of her head, and teardrop diamond earrings dangled from her ears.
When Sybbie's waltz with Lord Grantham ended, he immediately took Lady Grantham's hand for a dance. But Tom's eyes were focused on his daughter who spoke to a couple of different young men who wished to dance with Sybbie.
Tom stared at the young men hard, as he pictured them putting their hands all over his daughter, no doubt wishing they could do even more touching at some point. "It's all right, Tom," Lucy's soft voice said into his ear as Sybbie smiled and took one of the young man's hands and began to waltz. "It's just a dance."
Tom nodded, remembering Lucy and Lady Grantham's reaction to Sybbie wishing to eat dinner with the Frenchman. It had just been dinner. And this was just a dance. Still, Tom would like to keep a closer eye on Sybbie. "Would you dance with me, Lucy?" he said, his head pointing towards the dance floor. Sybbie and her dance partner were on the opposite side of the the large ballroom now.
Lucy's eyes darted nervously around the room without saying anything. Tom knew she was trying not to show her discomfort with the lavish setting. "No one is paying attention to you, love," he said into her ear. "They are here for Sybbie, after all. If anything, everyone is paying too much attention to her." His eyes focused on all the young men here who would feel the need to put their hands on Sybbie at some point tonight. "And Lady Grantham has already said you look lovely with your mother's purple gown and gold bracelet." He gazed at his wife's soft beauty.
Lucy smiled and accepted Tom's hand as they made their way to the dance floor, the soft sound of cello and violin music in the background.
OOOOOOOOOO
Tom and Lucy danced two more waltzes, all the while keeping a close eye on Sybbie and the young men who chose to dance with her. At least they hadn't tried to touch her inappropriately or lead her away from the ballroom to do who knew what. But when Lucy decided fetch a drink, Tom sought out Sybbie.
"Would you share a dance with your Dad, love?" he said softly as the next song began to play. "I cannot say I dance as well as your Donk, or even as well as some of the other young men do, but I've had plenty of practice waltzing in the last fifteen years."
Sybbie smiled brightly, and her blue eyes were full of love. "Of course, Dad." They moved their feet to the music. "You know Sir James may have been a great dancer, but I'd rather waltz with you. He wasn't interested in any of my plans to attend Queen Maragret's in the fall." She wrinkled her nose in disgust in a way that made her resemble her mother.
Irritation welled in Tom at that. Sybbie should be allowed to discuss what was important to her. Could this Sir James have even implied that his Sybbie had no right to attend school and become a teacher because she was half-Irish? He searched the room for this idiot, but Tom's eyes fell on Mary's dancing with Henry instead.
Mary had promised Tom more than once that she would examine the guest list for this ball and anyone who might think such things wouldn't be invited. He smiled at her, reminding himself how protective Mary was of their family. Sir James couldn't have been that narrow-minded; he must have been upset for a different reason.
Out loud Tom said, "Unfortunately a lot of men still think it's not proper for a young lady such of your self to attend school and have a job." So distracted by their conversation, Tom barely missed his daughter's feet.
"Dad!" Sybbie said, as they still attempted to waltz. Then she smiled. "I suppose I'll just have to prove that I can do well in school and as a teacher. After all, I've already been accepted to Queen Margaret's, without our family influence. Even Uncle Kieran has come around, thanks to the letters I've written him."
"Yes, you have," Tom said, trying not to show how nervous that still made him. How many times had Sybil been hurt in her effort to prove she could do things unusual for a British earl's daughter? She'd been injured when she became involved in politics, she had to travel alone from Ireland after she'd left her childhood home, and in the end, she died in childbirth.
"And I cannot wait to start teaching," Sybil said, her eyes growing dreamy. "Helping all those children learn the joy of reading will be wonderful."
Tom nodded as Sybil's dreams filled him with pride. "I know you'll be a wonderful teacher." Besides, attending Queen Margaret's in Scotland wouldn't be nearly as dangerous as traveling back and forth between England and revolutionary Ireland. As she'd said, even Kieran was coming around.
Tom and Sheena were also trying to write to each other more often in the past few months. He wrote to her about Sybbie's acceptance to Queen Margaret's in Scotland, and she informed him of her oldest son, Jimmy's plans to move to Britain soon. Tom knew he'd have to invite Jimmy to the local pub when he arrived, as he remembered how overwhelming moving coming here from Ireland was, especially for the first time.
When their waltz finished, Tom eyed Lucy, wondering if she was still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the extravagant ball. "I am going to speak to your mother now. You," he took a deep breath, eyeing all the other young men who were still hoping to put their hands on Sybbie. "Can dance with someone else now," he said, forcing the words out, almost against his will.
"Thank you, Dad," she said far too happily for his comfort.
Lucy's eyes lit up as Tom sat down next to her. Tom meanwhile, watched as Sybbie chose a young blond man to dance, and he grabbed Lucy's hand. She squeezed his hand in return.
I have no more plans to write fanfiction about Sybil, Tom, or Sybbie in the near future, but I am working on an original historical fiction novel which involves Irish Americans during the American Civil War. One of the themes in it will be adjusting to living in a new country and being accepted there.
So, if you would like to read more about those themes, you could consider purchasing it. I will tell you, however, that you will have to have a kindle to do so, as it will only be available on amazon kindle.
Let me know if you would like more details.