'All things considered,' Matthew thought to himself as he sat back in his chair, legs stretched out before him, fingers laced together and palms resting in his lap, 'she is taking it better than I expected.'
Mary grabbed a pillow from her bed, a lacy one with delicate hand stitching of a blooming lily, and began to wallop the mattress, not so much ranting anymore but rather taking a small moment to unleash angry screeches and nonsense words that reminded Matthew of a baby he had once seen in a park getting rather frustrated that she couldn't get one of her booties off.
He understood her frustration and anger. He'd been utterly floored when Allen and Sybil had returned from the meeting with Sir Elliot and summoned him to Allen's office. Sybil had broken open a bottle of irish whiskey whose smell alone had nearly knocked him back and handed him a glass before she drank her's down in a single gulp then poured again. The fact that Allen hadn't even mustered the energy to shoot her a dirty look had warned him of just how bad the news was. And was it… the mere fact alone that it wasn't Sir Elliot who had called the meeting had been enough to have Matthew taking a drink and the purpose asking for a double.
"Can you believe that Granny could be so mad?" Mary demanded, pausing on her assault of the hapless and innocent bedspread and returning from infant angry babbles to actual speech. "Because that is the only term for it... mad. Completely and utterly mad! Delusional!" She paused, spinning around and wagging her finger at him before he could comment that apparently there was another word for it (and that was a good thing as Matthew had a feeling if he had said that comment it would have been him truly being hit with the pillow). "They say that when one gets older the mind begins to go. Gets soft and allows for all sorts of strange thoughts to get lodged into there. Clearly that is the case with Granny if she believes that this is a grand plan!" Mary hefted the pillow and for a moment Matthew was worried she'd toss it at something breakable in their room... like him... but she finally she threw it onto the bed with a huff.
He had known that there simply wouldn't ever be a good time to inform her of Violet's meeting and her father's latest actions as well as their ramifications on their lives. Of course he had known there would have been worse times to break the news. In the middle of them making love, for one. Two seconds before he had to leave for Downton being another. And not telling her at his earliest chance and risking someone else spilling the news would have... not go well.
"Matthew!" Mary roared and he barely managed to duck before the door to the Lothrop house launched off his hinges and smashed into a wall. Mary emerged, 10 feet tall, her clothing in tatters, her teeth like a wolf's, hair a coil of snakes, devil horns piercing her forehead and her eyes glowing red. "You didn't tell me what papa did!?"
He could only curl into himself as she howled and leapt at him.
So it was never a question of him telling her about the new development as soon as possible.
He'd found her in the middle of getting dressed for dinner and he'd politely asked Grovers, Cat's lady's maid who she was kind enough to share with Mary, to see to Mrs. Lothrop so Matthew might discuss private matters with Mary. Of course Matthew had dimly realized that it was very likely that Allen was breaking the news to Catherine at the same time, as she could become as much of a she-beast as Mary when enraged, but the maid would know when to duck and cover. Mary had at first assumed he had something… pleasurable… in mind and he hated that such was not the case. He also could see why she had thought that, as he'd sent Grovers away with his wife only semi-decent, wearing her undergarments and stockings but having not yet put on her dress. He could have waited but decided against that; Matthew hadn't wanted to risk waiting even a second more to inform her of the news, lest her lose his nerve. And, of course, he had reasoned that she couldn't tear her dress into a thousand pieces if she wasn't even wearing it and he did rather like that red outfit with the cream lace.
She turned to him, her hands on her hips, her foot tapping against the floor impatiently. He had to mentally remind himself that it would be a very bad idea to get aroused at the sight of her just in her knickers, especially when she was fuming as she was. Still, it was hard not too… Mary was utterly beautiful especially when she was passionate about something and the sight of her wearing just a bit of cloth hiding her most private of areas, all of which were his favorites, made his heart race a bit even with the serious situation they were in. Still, Matthew managed to control himself
"When did you find out about this?" she demanded.
"Two hours ago and I would have told you sooner but I did have to leave the War Office and make it back here." He gestured at his uniform that he was still wearing.
Mary pursed her lips before rolling her eyes and motioning for him to stand. "Come now, you need to get out of those this instant so Molesley can get them cleaned. Will be making enough work for him getting them dirty no need to get them wrinkly either."
"Perhaps I should wait," Matthew said. "Get Molesley to help… after we've talked." He gestured at Mary. "If I brought him in here now I dare say he'd have a heart attack. You know he doesn't have the best heart." He'd remembered how Molesley hadn't been drafted because of his heart during his first life and thus he'd quietly had Allen put out the word to have Molesley listed as unfit for duty… he'd get the man checked out eventually but he knew his valet worried so and he didn't want to risk things by adding onto his burden. It was hard enough moving to London and finding his place in the Lothrop home and their staff.
"Nonsense, I will help you undress." Matthew's worry must have shown on his face (or terror most likely) because Mary huffed in annoyance and began to work to remove his tie. "I have undressed you plenty of times you know."
"I know," he said, once more forcing himself not to react to her and the memories she was bringing up. "It's just… you have to admit that you aren't the best when it comes to dressing."
"We agreed never to mention that incident with the shoe," Mary said firmly.
"I still down understand how you got it stuck in your-"
"Matthew…"
He held up his hand to placate her. "Okay, okay. That can be a mystery for the ages."
"Besides I am not going to dress you, nor will I attempt to dress myself. Instead I will undress you and then you can dress us both. Now then, what makes Granny think that this is a good idea?"
"Could we perhaps not bring up your Grandmother while you are removing my clothes?" Matthew asked as Mary worked to unbutton his shirt.
"You are the one who decided to come in here and deliver this news while I was nearly naked," she pointed out. "It is only fair that you have to be similarly garbed. It is something a husband and wife do… have conversations about annoying and foolish relatives while nearly naked." She motioned for him to hold out his arms and she easily slid his jacket off before pulling his shirt off.
Matthew, realizing that he wasn't going to win this fight, let out a sigh and continued with the tale. "I wasn't there so you'll forgive me if Allen and Sybil didn't give me all the details but from what I gathered your father arrived at her home a while back after a rather troubling incident at his club. I'm not for sure what happened but it seems that he finally realized just how terrible he had been to all of you."
Mary scoffed and tugged on his belt. "I don't believe for a moment that he has come to his senses… but at least what she is saying as an edge of plausibility. If Papa were to ever listen to anyone it wouldn't be to any of us, oh no! It would be a bunch of rich old white men who half the time confuse him for a different 'Robert the Earl'." The bitterness in her voice helped keep Matthew from feeling any sense of arousal as she got down on her knees, her face lined up with a rather important part of him, and began to unbutton his pants. "And what? He thinks he can convince us all to return to Downton if he proves he can perform a bit of charity?"
"This is more than a 'bit' of charity," Matthew said. Mary looked up at him, fire in her eyes, and he quickly waved his hands, now rather fearful that she was so close to his favorite body part. "I'm not defending him, I am merely pointing out that converting Downton into a hospital and convalescence home isn't an easy feat."
"An impossible one, I would say," Mary stated. "Up!" she commanded, patting his leg and Matthew raised his foot up so she could slide his pant leg down. "I simply can't see it working which only shows how little Papa has thought this through. Do they imagine to give every soldier their own room? I suppose the Abbey is large enough to allow some soldiers to stay there… certainly has more rooms than even here-" she gestured around them with her free hand before moving on to freeing his other leg, "-but on the scale they are talking about? I just can't imagine it."
Matthew treed carefully, deciding that he could risk a touch of future knowledge so long as he worded things just so. "If I have the wager I'd say the bedrooms would be used for those of high rank-"
"Just the sort of people Papa would want to befriend. See, it is all about making connections. Probably believes he can still find husbands for all three of us. Even if Sybil hasn't gotten a proposal from Tom yet, and hopefully that will be soon, I don't see her falling to her knees in thanks for whatever general Papa manages to find with a bad leg and a scarred face that he decides would make a sporting match."
"You seem rather keen on Sybil becoming Tom's wife," Matthew said with mild surprise.
"Please, it would more be Tom becoming her husband." She gave him a slight shove and Matthew sat down again, now clad only in his underwear and socks and the latter Mary set to work removing as well. "And why do you seem so surprised by that?"
"Well, their stations, for one. I mean no offense Mary but even with all that has happened to us she is still an Earl's daughter and he a servant. It is rather startling to thing you would support them wedding."
"All that has happened to us has shown me just why I must support them," Mary said firmly, finally stepping back and sitting on the edge of the bed, one stocking-clad ankle crossing over the other. "Life is short and you do not know when the fates will decide to take your plans and tear them to bits. So you must find your happiness where you can and then wish the same for those you care for. Sybil loves Tom… madly so. It is clear to all that see her. And he loves her nearly as much, though he holds back for some reason I simply can't understand. The Irish are supposed to be all brash and bold and yet he refuses to seize the day? Something not quite right there but hopefully he wakes up and does what he should do before it's too late." Her lips puckered into a rather charming frown. "But we've gotten off point, it would seem. Downton."
"Right," Matthew stated, leaning back in his chair and trying to be casual despite the fact that he was almost naked and yet having a seriously conversation with his wife. "They might use them for the high ranking officers… but I have my doubts. Men like that… they have servants and large estates or people powerful enough in standing that would want them to recover at their own manors… alone. I hear that Sir Anthony Strallan was discharged due to taking shrapnel in the arm and he simply returned to his home. No, I think it more likely that the rooms of Downton will be used for those soldiers that are in dire situations and the privacy is needed not just for them but for others as well."
A vision of William floated into Matthew's head and it took all his willpower not to flinch.
"And the other soldiers?" Mary asked.
"Convert libraries and large rooms into medical wards, similar to the ones here in London just at Downton."
Mary frowned at that. "I just don't see it. Though I suppose Granny wouldn't have gotten this far if she hadn't found some way to make it work. Still, this is all a fool's errand. Papa clearly either wishes to separate us so he might, I don't know…" Mary rolled her hand about as she sought the right words, "…convince you to set me aside-"
"Never."
She smiled at that, the first time she hadn't been wearing a look of rage and disgust since he'd broken the news. It was sadly fleeting. "-or try and put you in a situation where he might cause you shame and embarrassment in hopes of getting me to set you aside while allowing him to name you as being unfit to be his heir."
"What? A bad hunting accident?" Matthew asked.
"I say, Matthew, try on this hat, would you?"
"Why does this look like a duck?"
"No reason," Robert said, aiming his gun right at Matthew's head.
"I was thinking more of him throwing nurses your way in hopes you might find yourself in the wrong hall at the wrong time."
He shook his head at that. "Sybil would never allow that. She will be controlling the nurses and I wouldn't be surprised if one of the first things she does is warn them of such attempts."
"Oh, she will after she and I have had a talk. It is only the fact that she is being forced to go with you as well that has kept me as calm as I am-don't say a word," she warned when he glanced towards the pillow. "Of course it's possible that Papa has truly lost his mind and believes that I will follow after you and that will give him a chance to see me again and try and convince me to end this exile and return to being the meek and dutiful daughter he always knew."
Matthew didn't even dignify that delusion with a response.
"…papa thinking that, not it being actual history," Mary pointed out. "I wonder what he would expect of me to do there? Sit in my room quietly waiting for you to tell me about your day? I wager he believes that is what we do now. And seeing as Mrs. Patmore would never let me take over her kitchen that plot died the moment it was conceived."
"You could assist with the care of the soldiers," he offered.
Mary let out a huffing laugh. "Me? Changing bedpans and checking sheets? No… Sybil is our nurse from some French romance novel about war and tragedy and love, not I!"
Again Matthew flashed back to his previous life only now he saw Mary doing all that… for the other soldiers and for him. And he knew that in either life she would make a fine nurse.
"Well, papa sees fit to separate us then."
"I'll return often," Matthew promised. "Every few days. Allen already told me that he doesn't trust your father either and he is making arrangements to see that I have plenty of things in London that will require me to travel. He is going to find me a strong second-in-command that can watch things while I am gone. And of course Sybil will still have to make her own reports so she will be able to slip away as well." Mentally he added, 'And we'll be able to see if Robert truly did have a chance of heart… because if he did then I will need to find a way to bring you to Downton, my love. Because you miss him too, no matter what you claim.'
Mary let out a sigh. "It seems you will not let me be cross with you, which I am pleased with as I find it no longer as fun as it was when we first met, nor will you allow me to attack that poor pillow." She rose and rang for Grovers, causing Matthew to start as he rushed to grab his clothes. But Mary merely snatched up his pants and held them away from him before making her way to the door, opening it a crack just as the maid approached. "Grovers, please tell the General and Mrs. Lothrop that Matthew and I will be late for supper… about an hour or two, I would say."
"I will, my lady." With that the maid hurried off and Mary shut the door and locked it.
"Mary?" Matthew asked as she turned and flashed a wicked smile on her face.
"I am very angry now Matthew and I need to work off the energy that fire has created. Ravaging you and then letting you do the same to me is the perfect way to burn off all this tension." She stalked towards him like a lioness on the hunt.
"But… what of Allen and Catherine?" he asked as he backed away till the back of his legs hit the bed.
"If you don't believe for a moment that Catherine is making love to Allen so he calms down you know little of marriage, husband of mine." And with that Mary rushed him, their bodies become a tangle of limbs.
~MC~MC~MC~
Sybil sighed as she made the trudge up the final flight of stairs towards Tom's flat. While she and Isobel had decided to share a place, pooling their money together in orders to get something far nicer than either could have afforded on their own, and Thomas was happy with his small and rather modest place (Sybil had been there a few times, mostly when she had arrived to have lunch or dinner with him when everyone else was busy with other plans) Tom had surprised them all by deciding to get a place on his own that was nearly as nice and Sybil's own flat. He'd explained that he had spent very little of his salary during his time working at great estates, making due with mending his own clothing, avoiding spending his money of frivolous things, the like, in hopes of one day purchasing his own business. But with a job as a reporter he could use that money for something else and he had decided to treat himself with a nice place to live.
Of course Sybil had kicked herself when she'd heard that, chastising her younger self (who happened to be her older self in a way if one went by age physically instead of spiritually) for never questioning how Tom had affording buying them a home in Dublin when so many in service never achieved the means of doing something like that. It went to show how vain and foolish she had been back then, even after being a nurse in the War.
The War. She shook her head. The thing that she and Matthew had accepted they couldn't change or alter. Not truly. Their roles in it, yes, but not the War itself. That horrible thing would occur no matter what either of them did. They couldn't stop it.
And yet it seemed like the War wasn't the only thing that couldn't be stopped or prevented.
Downton was going to be a hospital again. Or a convalescence home or whatever else they wanted to call it. That part didn't honestly matter. What did was the simple fact that despite everything that had changed… that remained the same. Like Matthew and Mary becoming husband and wife… one lifetime filled with false starts and heartbreak while in this one they only faced one truly monstrous trial but come out happy in the end. In her previous life it had been Sybil's experience with that poor blind soldier taking his own life, not ready to leave yet but forced to for there weren't enough beds, that had seen Isobel make the decision that Downton must become a place for the fighting boys to get better. But here? It was her father, without any prompting from her or Isobel or anyone save for perhaps Granny, who had decided that this was the best course of action. And even if things were different… the lack of her sisters and her mother helping for one, her new position along with Matthew being a ruler rather than a patient being another… still it would mostly be as it had once been.
'I wonder,' she thought to herself as she finally made it to Tom's floor, 'what else will remain the same-'
"What are you doing here?" Tom hissed and Sybil started, eyes wide. But it took only a second for her to realize that he wasn't talking to her. He was standing down the hallway, his door half-opened, and he was focused on someone else. A man-
"I thought you said you'd have my information for me today. I grew concerned when you didn't swing by the office."
-Carlisle.
Sybil remembered that man well… the one, she had only learned from Matthew who had in turned learned about his true actions from Mary long after all of that sordid affair was done, who had used Mary's rape and Bates' suffering as a bargaining chip to force her into marrying him. The vile cad that had mocked Matthew after Lavinia had passed away because he couldn't accept that for all his posturing and his grand moves to move up in society… the humble middle-class lawyer had managed to gain the title and the woman he longed for. And in that order as well.
And now he was leaning toward Tom, neither seeing Sybil in the shadows of the stairs, his face all smiles and his posture all threats. And Tom was making it clear that the last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near the other man.
"I got half of it but Michael called an emergency meeting and pulled Rockwood into his office, meaning I didn't get a chance to talk to him."
"Even when he left?" Carlisle pressed.
"Even when he left. He and Michael and Edith all went out together. I tailed them to try and find out more but I didn't learn much."
"What were they talking about?"
"It doesn't matter," Tom stated.
"It isn't up to you to determine that," Carlisle countered.
Tom folded his arms over his chest. "Actually it is. I've brought you good information, haven't I? Your paper did rather well with that piece on the Terence affair, did it not?"
Carlisle smiled a bit more naturally at that. "It did." His stance went back to imposing. "But I needed what Rockwood is working on-"
"I checked the layout for tomorrow's paper… Michael isn't running the story yet and I'm willing to bet he won't be running it for a while."
"I don't care about the story. Let Gregson run it first."
That startled Tom a bit and Sybil did her best to both lean forward so she could hear what they were saying without altering them to her presence. "Then why do you even care then? I thought we'd moved beyond pointless tests."
"We have," Carlisle said with a raised eyebrow. "Unless you give me a reason to believe that we haven't." He gave a hapless shrug. "Well, it won't matter anyway… I need it to put pressure on a woman." Tom folded his arms over his chest and Carlisle rolled his eyes in exasperation. "She's my source from the Marconi Scandal. I need to make sure she remembers that she stands to fall as far as I do if word slips on how the papers came into my hands. She isn't even directly involved with what Rockwood is working on… it is merely an example to remind her what happens to people who cross me. A few of those affected… it doesn't matter, the girl will come to no harm, as I can tell that is your greatest concern."
"It is," Tom confirmed. "I won't aid you in harming another as you are harming me."
"I haven't harmed you Tom. You merely aren't approaching this as you should… seeing the benefit this can be for both of us. I will admit that I came only strongly… I was concerned about the delay you caused me but understand now why. Luckily I can wait a bit more. I'm generous like that."
"Or you just wanted to remind me that you know where I live," Tom said in annoyance.
"You… your friends Matthew Crawley and Thomas Barrow… and dear little Sybil…" Carlisle leaned forward and hissed with false kindness, "And believe me… the things I could write about her…"
She was going to kill him. And this time she wouldn't get Bates to do the dirty work for her. She was going to gut this bastard herself. She'd turn his entrails into sausages and then feed them to him as he choked on them with his death breath! It wasn't even the threat against herself that angered her… it was that he was using her to get to Tom.
She quickly slipped off her shoes and padded up the stairs to the next landing, waiting as Carlisle and Tom finished their conversation before she finally heard the newsman make his way down to the stairs. Only then did she descend and she was rather proud of Tom's cunning that he had emerged from his doorway and purposely waiting at the stairs to make sure that Carlisle did leave. Plus it made his surprise at seeing her descend, shoes in hand, all the more humorous.
"Sybil?" Tom asked before narrowing his eyes. "How much have you heard?"
"Most of it and before you ask no, this did not happen the last time so it was merely luck that saw me arrive when I did." She motioned towards his apartment. "I think we best sit down… you have a story to tell and I do as well."
"You?" Tom asked.
"Yes. And I do believe it will be rather close when it comes to determining whose tale is more startling."
Nearly an hour later, and a nearly drained bottle of Irish whiskey, and Sybil was proven to be quite correct as neither of them could decide who had it more strange.
Tom? He was being blackmailed by the man that, in a previous lifetime, had been Mary's fiancée and now had unknowingly been prevented being knighted by Edith's fiancée… said fiancée having Tom act as a triple agent and feed Carlisle enough information to string him along and eventually bring his entire plan crashing down.
Sybil? She was being forced back to Downton to serve as Head Nurse of a new hospital that would be run there, all of which was her father's idea as apparently the Earl of Grantham had quite suddenly had a change of heart and now, at least according to Granny, wanted to make amends with his family for how he had treated them.
The two of them sat together on Tom's somewhat lumpy couch, heads both tilted back as they stared at the ceiling, the warmth from the alcohol making them not really feel like moving. They've both kicked off their shoes and in a move that would have given Carson fits plopped their feet on the table, sprawled out on the furniture without any caring for what wrinkles their garments might develop.
"…was your first life as mad as this?"
"At this moment or over all?" Sybil asked.
"There is a difference?"
"Oh very much!" Sybil said with a tired laugh. "At this very moment things weren't as startling strange as they are now. That isn't to say that they weren't strange compared to what I imagined my life might be but not as wild as any of this. But life over all? No, this life has been rather peaceful all things considered."
"Even though you mentally traveled back to the past and have had to pretend you are years younger?" Tom pressed.
Sybil scowled at that. "I keep forgetting that my journey through time might seem odd to others."
"…how can you even forget that for a moment?!" Tom complained.
"I am living it, Tom. That makes it rather easy!" She laughed and Tom joined her a few moments more. "That or I have merely embraced the madness."
"We all have, I'm afraid," Tom said, his laughter slowly subsiding though it would hiccup and start again just when it seemed like he had control. "How was your life over all less mad than all of this?"
Sybil shook her head. "Sometimes I wish you would remember what everyone went through, if only so you'd believe half the tales I could tell. Other times I am thankful that you don't have that burden." She considered just what she wanted to say, for she didn't want to get into things that would make him feel as if she were judging him poorly against his other self. They had finally gotten to a good place, where they could be with each other without the burden of her future knowledge making him skittish and scared, and the last thing she wanted to do was send them right back to the beginning. Nor did she want him to feel like he was competing with someone else… because he wasn't. He was still her Tom… merely one without the memories. And she was fine with that. "There is Mary and Matthew, for one thing. And Edith and her feuded terribly so. Mary… admitted things to me during my last month in that previous life, things she did… that Edith did…"
"What things?" Tom pressed, turning his head to look at her.
"Edith revealed to the Turkish Embassy that Pamuk died in her bed."
"In… then he-?"
Sybil nodded and it was only remembering that the man had died by her order that kept her stable and calm. "Yes. And Edith used that against Mary. For what slight I never found out, though I am sure Mary did something horrible to her even if she didn't realize it. She claimed to me that she was wholly innocent but I knew that was a lie. Those two… they were both villains in that saga."
"I find it hard to believe Edith would do something like that."
"Not our Edith, you must remember that. That previous Edith. One who didn't have Michael. One who became so desperate for love she almost married that cad Sir Anthony."
"…I remember him. The old man with the pudding, right? What did he do?"
"Mary apparently convinced him to leave Edith once and then Sir Antony left her at the alter." Tom shot an eyebrow up at that. "Yes, I know. I had some choice words for her about that." She pursued her lips in thoughts. "Bates went to jail-"
"He WHAT?!" Tom exclaimed.
"-for murder. He killed his horrid ex wife… the one that fled to America when Matthew and I saw fit to free Bates from his false confession."
"Did he actually do it?" Tom asked. "I don't mean to sound dark and morbid and I know I should believe that he was innocent… but I saw a few times his temper, especially with Thomas and O'Brien, and I know he could be that way, if left with no other option."
"I know what you mean," Sybil admitted. It had been that anger, after all, that she had counted on when enlisting him to deal with Pamuk. "But no, he was innocent. Matthew assisted him and Anna… Vera poisoned herself so that she might frame him for her death."
"Damn," Tom murmured. "I knew the woman was a sorry creature but I didn't imagine she'd be-"
"Such a rotten soith?" Sybil cursed, slipping into the Irish brogue she always seemed to adapt when she let her foul language slip forth.
Tom merely shrugged and went back to staring at the ceiling. "What about us?"
"Oh, I was bein' a gowl, that's for sure. Ya knew I loved ya, but I was too much of a gobshite ta admit it." She paused, forcing herself to return to her natural vocals. "We danced around each other and left each other so utterly frustrated… sometimes I wish you hadn't been such a good Catholic boy and just kissed me senseless and then carried me off to the barn, damn my noble birth." She let out a laugh. "Sometimes I wonder if that is the problem with us Crawley girls… we're so wound up with pent up desires and needs that it makes us all delusional in our heads. Things always seem to calm down for us when we get in a good…" she waved her hand about. "You know."
Tom finally leaned forward and grabbed the bottle, pouring them another drink each and handing her one, forcing Sybil to sit up in a bit more dignified manner. "Think that would work right now with what we are going through?"
"It might," Sybil admitted before quickly adding. "Not that I am asking."
"Of course not," Tom added with just as much speed as her. "We couldn't."
"No, we could not."
"Indeed."
The two both pounded down their drinks.
"After all… you're…" Sybil grasped for words. "Catholic! Against the faith and all that?"
"True… though I'm not exactly the best Catholic boy in the world. Don't go to church as much as I should… while I was at Downton I didn't go at all. Knew it might upset your father."
"Oh," Sybil said.
Tom set his glass down. "Still, I respect your reasoning, of course. Save yourself for marriage and all that."
"Tom," Sybil said, looking at him, "what is a marriage?"
"A union of two souls."
"My soul is the same. So is yours. Just because you lack the memories doesn't change that."
Tom digested that. "So… in other words…"
"I see us as already being married."
"Right." He looked down at the ground. "So there is literally nothing stopping us."
The two shared a look…
"Bloody hell."
…and slammed into each other, mouths pressed together in need, fingers not so much as removing clothing as tearing it from their bodies. Tom got up, still holding her in his arms, and the two of them began to stumble towards his bedroom, knocking things over and creating a rather spectacular mess as the pent up desire that had been growing between them over the last few years exploded out with all the barriers utterly destroyed. Sybil's uniform ripped, a button from Tom's shirt shot off somewhere, the two of them hit his bookshelf and sent several tomes clattering to the ground. Then, in a tangle of limbs, the two of them fell down halfway to the bedroom.
And promptly decided that beds were overrated and floors did quite nicely.
~MC~MC~MC~
Edith would have disagreed with that thought.
Beds, in her opinion, were rather nice.
Especially as she laid on Michael's, her body tingling even as she pulled the sheet up to hide her naked form, accepting a cigarette from him and taking a satisfied inhale while he did the same. Their clothing was littered all about his room and she knew it would be a terrible thing trying to pick it all up before one of the maids saw it… though there was little use hiding what they had done, considering everything Edith had cried out during the lovemaking.
'Thank goodness Michael pays his servants to keep quiet,' she thought as she took another drag from the cigarette.
"I do hope Tom isn't bothered too much by us skipping out early," Michael said from beside her, his hair a mess and his chest dotted with marks from where her lips had taken great care to mark him as her own.
"He will manage quite fine. I'm sure that he is having a quiet night in. Perhaps he will stop in to visit Mary and Matthew."
"I just worry…" Michael said only for Edith to roll over on top of him, snatching his cigarette away and placing it in the ashtray beside the bed. "But clearly you think I'm being silly."
"Very much so when you have another member of the Crawley family to worry about."
"Technically Tom isn't part of-"
Edith made sure he never finished that sentence.
~MC~MC~MC~
Author's Notes: Welcome to the chapter I like to call, "The Three Eldest Crawley Girls Get Laid" Chapter. Because serious discussions are always better when held naked!
Not too much to say other than this is cleaning up some things and setting up for others before we move to Downton's next major arc.
And now our plot bunny, inspired by the works of Rap541.
This takes place during the Christmas Episode of Series 5. That is the one where Tom decides to leave for America, Bates is in hiding, Carson proposes, and Mary still hasn't decided who she is going to be with. Bates, returning to Downton for the party to surprise Anna, is making his way quietly through the village, not wanting to be spotted before he reveals himself to Anna. But as he is moving around Dr. Clarkson's building he notices the doctor emerging from the cellar, hissing to someone that they "better keep their mouth's shut if they want to eat tomorrow". Quietly sneaking to the cellar, shocked by the anger coming from the doctor, after Clarkson leaves he looks inside… and instantly rushes to the Abbey, interrupting the festivities. Robert and the others are surprised, of course, but Bates brushes them all off, instantly barking out orders much to everyone's shock. He commands Carson to get hunting rifles and any pistols they might have on hand and orders Tom, Robert, Andy, and several other able-bodied men to come with him. He orders Mr. Carson to call for the police and bar the door to anyone but them. Everyone is shocked and wants answers but Bates says it is a matter of life and death.
Leading them back to Dr. Clarkson's house Clarkson opens the door and Bates draws his weapon, telling the confused doctor that its over, he knows the truth, and he will spend the rest of his days rotting in a cell. Clarkson, much to Robert's shock, draws a hidden gun and shoots at them, hitting Andy in the shoulder and the men open fire, killing Clarkson. One of the guests at the party tend to Andy while Bates leads the mob to Clarkson's cellar and throws open the door, leading them down inside to reveal that the cellar was converted into a prison by the doctor, with several people in chains. They are gaunt and pale and weak and filthy. It is only when Tom hears his name weakly called out that he turns and falls to his knees in shock.
It's Matthew, holding a weak and bloodied Sybil in his arms.
The story comes out that Dr. Clarkson was a VERY vile man. When people slight him he fakes their loved ones' deaths using medicines and injections then imprisoned them, mocking them that they would never be missed. He poisoned Sybil to make it look like she died on her deathbed because Robert did not respect his opinions on her care. When he found Matthew injured from his auto accident he remembered how Isobel turned him down and did the same to Matthew. There are a few other people down there as well, having been trapped for years. Clarkson brutalized them, keeping them in the dark and barely fed… and in the case of Sybil did things that make Pamuk look kind.
Thus the story would then shift to focus on the recovery from the ordeal. How Matthew and Sybil handle returning to a normal life and the difficulties that would bring. How one morning Anna would come to walk Sybil only to find her on the floor leaning against a wall… she can't lay in a bed because the only time she felt that in years was when Clarkson had… urges. Matthew spending much of his time outside, unable to handle small spaces and one time having a panic attack when he finds himself trapped in a room. There would be horror when Clarkson's diary is found and they learn of others that were almost taken. And finally the healing and getting things back to normal.
