Dr. Richard Clarkson sat at his desk, hands folded in front of him, and tried his best to mix stern determination with calm understanding. It was something he usually was quite good at, for there was always this patient or that who believed that they knew better than their doctor and thus could create their own regiment for health. It didn't help that he had to deal with both sides of society who seemed determine to ignore all sane medical advice.
There were the poor farmers of the village that still had it in their head that doctors were little more than magicians who used leeches and potions to work their spells. They got angry at him when he told them that they had to take the time to make things right because in their minds he should be able to give them a single elixir that would cure them of the crippling back pains, make them 10 years younger, and regrow the hair on top of their balding heads. And those were the ones that were willing to actually come and see him; many times he was forced to go to a home to see a patient that was nearing Death's door only to learn that the symptoms had been around for months but the fool had decided to ignore them because if you didn't put a name to a disease then it didn't actually exist.
'And then there are the wealthy,' he thought to himself. He never voiced his opinions out loud, doing his best to hide behind a mask of polite acceptance, but it truly did annoy him to no end how those with titles seemed to believe that meant they were superior in all things and thus could override him and his judgment. It didn't matter what books he showed them or papers that proved his decisions to be true they would more often than not wave away his concerns. 'Just looking for trouble,' he'd been told more than once, first in London and then at Downton by the Crawley Family. For the members of high society they were desperate for the world to remain as it had been for centuries and any advancement was a threat to that.
He remembered one time when he'd been forced to tell the Dowager that she needed to watch her diet and perhaps get in a bit of exercise if she didn't want to worsen her limp. She had been aghast, asking if he wanted her to look like some dockhand throwing fish nets onto boats. When he'd tried to explain that the pain in her hip, which forced her to use her cane, was caused because she'd allowed herself to gain a touch too much weight for her frame she'd scoffed. "A fuller frame is proof of good breeding" she'd declared. The wealthy believed it to be HEALTHY to be overweight, despite medical science having proven this to be false. It had nearly been as bad with Lady Mary when he'd informed her that the jaw pain she'd suffered from was due to her not properly caring for her teeth. Dentistry wasn't something she was concerned with, a waste of money, really, and it was just a new sensation. When he'd informed her that the Greeks had been known to have dentists she'd rolled her eyes and asked if she looked like some Olive Oil Drinking Mediterranean. That had been that… until the toothache had gotten so bad she'd finally had to come to him and she'd missed the first half of the Season on bed rest after she'd been sent to London to have them remove the offending tooth. And she'd been even more upset when she'd had to go back a year later to deal with her wisdom teeth.
Yes, Richard was used to dealing with people questioning his judgment and hiding his annoyance.
But it wasn't working right now as Matron Sybil paced about his office.
"You want me to apologize?" she hissed, her normally breathy voice coming off more like the gasps of Medusa stalking her prey.
"I am saying that we want to have the best reputation for this hospital and that sometimes means-"
"Allowing a man to put his hands on me in a way that even most husbands wouldn't do with their wives and then thanking him for the treatment?" Sybil asked with an annoyed huff. "It is thinking like that which allows men to believe that such actions are fine."
"I'm not saying what Major Bryant did was right," Richard said, trying to placate the woman.
"But you're not saying its wrong either."
"I am thinking of the hospital."
Sybil whipped around and pointed a finger at him. "You can't even say the words."
"There is no need to. You know how I feel."
"Then say them," she challenged.
He kept his mouth shut. Not because he didn't think she was right and what the Major had done was wrong… but because in his annoyance at her and how she was taking the entire situation he didn't want to give her the victory. It was petty, he knew that, and later on he was sure he'd feel great shame for his actions, but in the moment he didn't want to see her wearing a victorious little smirk.
"You can't, can you?" she said. "Because men have needs so they are allowed to go around raping women and that will be fine. It has always been that way, you know? Men allowed to do whatever they want and it is handwaved away."
"We are not here to get into a debate about the genders," Clarkson reminded her. "We are here to discuss Major Bryant and the complaint his father has filed against the hospital."
"It is trash and I don't care about it. There, we can get back to the more important subject." Richard pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to fight the headache he could feel building. "It starts when they are young, you know? Little boys torment little girls, pulling on their pigtails and throwing clumps of dirt at them. And when those little girls run to their parents and complain what are they told?" She rolled her eyes and her voice dropped a bit to mimic a man's voice. "It just means he likes you, princess."
"It is true," Richard said. "Children don't know how to express their feelings so they act out-"
Sybil picked up a tea cup that had been sitting on his desk and considered it. "I like you, Dr. Clarkson. You are a wonderful doctor, have offered me advice when I find myself unsure of how to handle certain situations, and though we haven't interacted much in a casual setting I dare say we'd get along rather fine. And to demonstrate how much I care for you I'm going to dump this tea over your head and stomp on your foot. Won't that be a jolly good show of how much we get along?"
"There is no need to be dramatic," Richard said, holding up a hand as he begged for peace… and the hope that she wouldn't make good on that threat ('Does she have any idea how troublesome it is to get stains out of my uniform?'). "I understand your frustrations, I truly do. But you know, even if you're unwilling to admit it, that certain things must be done in certain ways… and certain norms remain in place"
"Only because we are too scared to fight against them," Sybil said firmly, not backing down. "Major Bryant was caught breaking the rules. He knows that the Downton staff is to be left alone. The man already had received a warning for trying to distract one of my nurses. This wasn't mere distraction, Dr. Clarkson. I shudder to think what those two may have done, had I not happened upon them when I did. Do you think my father would have taken lightly to Major Bryant fornicating in one of Downton's game rooms?"
He grimaced at that. "I'm more concerned what the Dowager would have said." The woman had made it clear that she expected Richard to be her creature, to obey her commands. He had disappointed her quickly by showing that in this case, with power to actually back him up, he wasn't interested in helping in whatever schemes she might cook up. She'd been disappointed, to say the least, and though she hadn't said a word it had been made clear to Richard that should he make a mistake she would use it now against him in order to drive him out of Downton and install someone else.
"And now what do you think they would say knowing that Major Bryant spoke to me as he did… that he fingered my hair and tried to convince me to mimic Ethel?" His jaw worked at that but Sybil spoke up before he could retort. "That isn't a threat, Dr. Clarkson. I am going to handle this situation on my own. I won't go running to papa or my grandmother with it. But just consider that after what happened with Kamal Pamuk such unwanted advances won't be taken kindly by my family."
"I understand that," he pleaded, hoping he might FINALLY get her to see reason. "I truly do. Major Bryant was wrong to act as he did to you." There, he said the words. "But that doesn't change the fact that you attacked him."
"I removed the threat. Like a soldier would with an enemy. I would think the Army would appreciate and understand that. In the field I would have been awarded a medal."
He let out a groan. "You know that what you did and the war are completely different. Major Bryant's family is an old and powerful one… not as powerful as yours, perhaps, but powerful enough to raise a fuss. We can't make enemy of them."
"Can't, or are too cowardly to stand against them."
Richard set his jaw at that. "You will apologize."
"YOU are not my superior, Dr. Clarkson. We are equals here."
"I am the chief medical officer for Downton. You care for the nurses and make sure we have enough bedpans. Whose word do you think truly cares more weight? I was selected because of my service… you were selected because your grandmother whispered in the right ears!"
He'd lost his temper. Spoke that which should never be spoken.
And the moment Sybil's eyes flashed he knew how wrong he had been.
"Lady Sybil-" he began, moving to make right what he'd said.
"I was wrong, Dr. Clarkson," Sybil said, her voice like ice on the coldest night of the year. "I don't think you and I would make good friends." With that she made for the door. "You have my permission to apologize yourself for what happened to Major Bryant. But if I find my name anywhere on your letter I will use every weapon at my disposal to remove you from Downton. If you are lucky I might let your heart keep beating while your body is tossed out!"
With that she ripped open the door, storming out and slamming it so hard several pictures rattled.
Richard, head held in his hands, wondered not for the first time how he'd found himself in this mess.
~MC~MC~MC~
Sybil stalked through the ward, nurses quickly shifting so to be out of her way, dragging their carts with them with a speed and strength she'd never seen them use before. The soldiers were the same, turning so they were looking anywhere but her direction. One man even did a leap back into his bed while others pretended to be asleep so they wouldn't become the focus of her wrath.
She knew that she should take a moment to calm down, to center herself and get back to a more stable mindset. But that man… that infuriating man! She wanted to be angry and spiteful; it made her feel good. Warmed her like a hot dish on a winter's morning. Gave her energy and a drive.
'It doesn't help that I see his point,' she thought to herself as she grabbed one patient's chart and began to look it over, though there was no real need to and she honestly was just doing it to keep her hands busy. 'The Bryants are an established family… no where near the Crawleys when it comes to history or standing but enough that they can raise a stink. And should they press the issue they could cause problems for the hospital.' But even as she thought that the rage returned to her and she nearly snapped the clipboard in half. 'But does that give them the right to demand I apologize to their vulgar spawn?'
Sybil ignored the little voice in her head that sang that her father and mother and grandmother had demanded much and more from others, using their standing to get what they wanted even when they were in the wrong.
She'd known that Major Bryant would cause further problems; just looking at the man with his smug little smile and weasely mustache it was clear he was one that would never take her insults against him with a shrug and a grin. He had been born and raised believing he was able to do whatever he wanted and to have that idea challenged was unacceptable. She of course ignored the little voice in her head that complained that she was being a hypocrite because she and her sisters had been raised much the same way.
'That is different,' Sybil thought as she moved away from the bed (pretending not to hear the sigh of relief from the soldier who was lying there) and made her way towards the front hall; new arrivals were scheduled to be brought in and she wanted to be there to greet them if for nothing else than to take her mind off things. 'Mama certainly didn't let us believe we could do whatever we wanted. And Granny would have idly wondered if it might not be time to return to the days of switches no matter a child's status if we'd acted in such a way.' The difference was that while she and her sisters had wanted for little… there had still been a limit. Major Bryant had clearly never been told 'no' and thus did as he wanted, when he wanted, and was rather startled when he was denied. 'And like all spoiled and petulant children when he doesn't get his way he runs back to his parents.'
Once more she told the little voice in her head that reminded her of her threats to Clarkson about going to her father to kindly bugger off.
'And it is quite different for me to demand a bit of respect and he to demand that he be allowed to fondle any woman he wants without a peep!' she mentally snarled as she stepped outside and moved to stand with several of the nurses that were waiting to help the new arrivals. They shot her a look, obviously surprised that she was there as normally she was only required to greet new soldiers if they had a high enough rank to deserve such treatment, but Sybil merely squared her shoulders and kept her gaze forward towards the trucks and cars that were puffing their way along the long drive and soon the women ignored her and focused on the convoy making their way towards them.
"How many are we expecting this time, Gretchen?" Sybil asked the tall nurse to her left; never had she seen a woman who was so big. Sybil was used to people making her feel small but Gretchen neared 2 meters! Perfectly proportioned… she didn't look like a stork or anything like that… which made Sybil feel like she was a child standing next to a giant. Carson had sputtered a bit upon her arrival and Sybil had made sure to get Gretchen a larger bed so she wouldn't be scrunched up. The woman was a God send though, as she could intimidate the soldiers without saying a word. She merely loomed over them and reminded them all of their boyhood days with their teachers. She also understood hard work, having grown up on a farm in the south where her parents had been forced to have her help with the crops due to her strength than allow her to pick flower pedals all day.
"Twenty eight," the woman said. "Two batches."
"That is a large group," Sybil said. "I think only our first batch, when Downton opened its doors, rivals that."
"We do have enough empty beds," Gretchen reminded her.
"Of course. Just makes me sad we are still getting this many. Means the war is still going strong."
"Perhaps… or it could mean we've gotten better at saving lives that might have died otherwise."
Sybil smiled at that. "I suppose you are right." And with that the conversation came to an end as they watched the vehicles come to a stop and the men were unloaded. Sybil watched as the each man passed by and quietly considered what treatments they would need. Men missing limbs would need training to understand how to get by without the appendage that had been lost; if it were their non dominate hand it was easy enough but if that were not the case there were plenty of people that learned to write with their weaker hand. In fact Sybil knew of some people who were left handed who'd been forced to use their right by foolish teachers so perhaps this would be a good thing in the end, if such wounds could ever be considered good.
"You'll like it here," Sybil told one soldier who was trying to manage on his own but clearly hadn't gotten used to his cane yet; from the way he moved his ankle it was clear he was missing parts of his right foot. Yet he didn't seem bothered by it; in fact it was clear he was pleased to be allowed to move on his own. "With it warming up the grounds are perfect for walking."
"Probably nicer to fall on than the London streets," he said, trying to be lighthearted but she could tell there was frustration in him being unable to walk properly.
"Very much so," she stated.
Another nurse, Thersea, chimed in. "And there are plenty of people to help you up, if you do fall." She pointed to their left to where a group of soldiers were going for a mid day walk, chatting quietly to themselves. "We have tours now… you can see churches and old farms… I hear it is quite lovely."
"Who is that one fellow, the one in the tweed?" the soldier asked, nodding towards the figure that was leading the tour.
Sybil smiled. "Lord Grantham."
The soldier stared at her in shock but when she didn't reveal it all to be a joke he shook his head and muttered that his mother would never believe that he went walking with a lord.
She didn't blame him; Sybil was just as shocked by her father's decision to help with the care of the patients. In the previous timeline he'd arranged events and fundraisers but that had been it. He mostly stayed out of the way and let the women handle things. But this time he'd quietly approached her and with all the meekness of a little boy wondering if he could go and play before supper asked if it might be alright if he took some of the soldiers out for a walk.
"I'm going to go anyway and they are going to go and… it seems rather silly for us all not to go together."
Sybil had been utterly flabbergasted but quickly assured him that it would be more than fine. That was a month ago and it had become a regular occurrence for her father to spend an hour or two walking the grounds of Downton with the soldiers, chatting about everything and nothing. The men at first were tongue-tied that a Lord would take notice of them but that had quickly worn off and now it was a treat. The ones that grew stronger would go on longer tours with him, to nearby churches or places of interest, her father delighting in telling them the history of the lands. Not that they only spoke of such things… or even just her father being the sole speaker. He asked them of their lives, their families, where they had come from and where they wanted to go. She'd even heard that he'd helped one or two that had left find positions with other estates, putting in good words for them.
She mentally sighed in bemusement. 'Even Papa can change, it seems-'
"Lady Sybil?"
She turned and was startled to see a face she hadn't expected to ever gaze upon again. Certainly not with all that had changed in her life… and Edith's.
"Sir Anthony," she said, smiling as the old knight walked towards her, his arm in a sling. She remembered that the injury he'd gained in the war had led him to be labeled a 'cripple' by the likes of Granny and Aunt Rosamund but seeing him now, after remembering once more all she had seen and the people she'd cared for she found such a title to be utterly unfitting for the likes of him. Sir Anthony had a bad arm, yes. The man wouldn't be writing thousand page letters any time soon. But he could easily learn to eat with his other hand, to write with it… do everything he'd once done before. And it wasn't like he had to work for a living. Not like the chaps that were being brought to Dwonton now. Yes many of them were middle class and might not be expected to plow fields and the like but they weren't like Sir Anthony who had a home well paid for and servants to see to their needs. Calling him a cripple and acting like he'd suffered some horrific tragedy was just… wrong.
"I wasn't aware you had returned to Downton," he said with a pleasant smile. "Last I heard you were off in London."
"I have returned," she said with a slight dip of her head. "Now then, if you'll follow Gretchen…" she trailed off, making her leave, only for a few steps into her retreat to find Sir Anthony following her like a puppy unsure of where to go.
"It is lovely what you and your family have done with Downton," he said as he followed, not listening to her instructions in the slightest. "This is a wonderful way to help in the war effort… truly wonderful."
"Papa's idea," Sybil said, wishing he would just leave her be. The two of them had never shared a conversation together so she didn't quite get why he was chasing after her… unless he'd tired of going after Mary and Edith and now wanted to try his luck with her. 'Complete the set even if he doesn't realize it.' In this life Mary had never strung him along and Matthew's words to Edith had bolstered her confidence enough that she felt no urge to throw herself at the man so desperately as she had.
"I'll have to pay him my compliments," Sir Anthony said as he followed Sybil through the halls that were decidedly NOT for visiting soldiers to be wandering about. Yet the man seemed to believe because he'd been invited to dine with them once he was allowed to amble about without leave. "It is wonderful, what you are all doing. Opening your home, playing host… it is a true kindness. A way to be of some use, even if it is a small role."
She at once realized what was going on. Sir Anthony had come to the conclusion that she was merely serving as a polite hostess, smiling as part of a welcoming committee to the soldiers that arrived. That she didn't have a role of power in the hospital… that she was little more than Lord Grantham's daughter getting to play her part, like a child begging to be of help setting up for a party and told they could fold napkins that no one would ever use.
And in that moment everything that had happened with Major Bryant and with Dr. Clarkson burst forth in a violent eruption of indignant rage. But it was more than that. She remembered how Matthew had informed her that it had been Mary flirting with Sir Anthony that had driven Matthew away from her just as the two of them had begun to connect. She remembered how Sir Anthony had foolishly believed Mary's cruel words concerning Edith's feelings, rather than talking to the woman himself, and thus pulled away from her just as they had been growing close. She remembered how on the day they were to be married… no, not the day, the bloody HOUR… he left her at the altar, fleeing like a coward and forcing her to deal with the aftermath. Rather than do the brave thing and take her to the side, inform her he couldn't marry her, and allowing her to quietly escape while he stood and took on the shame and embarrassment… he fled, stealing away and leaving the country for several months and then attempting to return and continue on with his life. She remembered Edith sobbing, the decorations being torn down, the food being given to the servants to eat… and she found herself spinning on her heels and jabbing a finger into the knight's chest.
"Allow me to correct your misconceptions, Sir Anthony," she hissed. "I am not here out of the kindness of my father or because I am some bored little girl who can only make her dull little life have a bit of excitement by pretending to be a nurse. I am a nurse. I am a fine nurse. Before coming here I worked in London helping soldiers recover from the horrors of this war."
Sir Anthony quickly threw his hand up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I just-"
"Assumed? Believed? Held that because I was a woman or because who my parents were that there was no chance that I could actually do something of value?" Her voice was raising and despite their height difference it was Sir Anthony who was cringing and shrinking down. "Let me assure you that you are wrong on that score. Very wrong because you see I am not merely working at Downton… I run Downton. I might not have a baroness cornet but do not allow yourself to be mistaken. I am the mistress of this house right now. I am Matron Sybil Crawley. The nurses that will change your bedsheets? Mine. The ones that bring you food? Mine. The ones that will care for you and ensure that you get on the road of recovery? Mine. Every one you flirt with or try to give a pat on the bottom? MINE."
He opened his mouth to say something but she didn't let him. Instead she found herself unable to stop… unwilling to stop… speaking her mind to the man that had become the embodiment of every woe that all of womankind had ever suffered. All men that had ever lived had silently chosen to make him their representative in that moment and Sybil was more than happy to take on the mantle of Champion for all female kind, from Eve who'd been blames for the banishment to the queens blamed for the schemes of their husbands to the sobbing abandoned ladies who had been abused by soldiers who thought them little more than playthings!
"Now, let us be clear: I am not going to abuse my position to do you harm. I am not a man. Men would do such things. Take this slight and see it as a reason to give you inferior care or to cast you out with none at all. The worst bed, the stalest of food, the most uncomfortable of arrangements until you finally fled this hospital to escape it. No no… I take too much pride in all I do for such a thing to be done. Instead I will do all that I can to see you get better. To be healed to the fullest. They said that your arm would never achieve full mobility? I will make sure that it is healed to the point that you are THANKFUL for the German bullet that injured it because I have made it better than it was 20 years ago! And you will have no choice but to sing my praises. But I would never demand that… I would demand nothing of you. Because I do not need anything from you or anyone else that believes themselves better than me!"
With that she turned towards the door, throwing it open and storming once more through the main floor ward, soldiers now practically clawing their way up the walls to avoid her. She moved briskly towards the grand staircase, taking them two at a time before she pushed on to the third floor and where the family's rooms were at. She had only one goal in mind and her entire field of vision was reduced to a single pinprick, the target of her journey, so that nothing else existed save for that door.
"Sybil?" Tom asked as she stormed into his room, looking up from the notes he'd been going over for his next article. She didn't slam the door, as that would draw too much attention, but she did reach behind her and lock it. "Aren't… aren't you supposed to be doing your rounds?" His brow was furrowed in confusion and his surprise only grew as Sybil reached up and undid the pin that held her hair back before she worked to remove her jacket.
"We are going to make love."
"I… do I get a say in the matter?" Tom asked.
"No," she said sternly as she kicked off her shoes and padded over to him, grabbing him by the tie and leading him to the bed like he was a dog on a leash. She shoved him down on the mattress and ripped his shirt open before she worked to undress herself. "And we won't stop until I have my fill."
"…okay."
