Sybil did all she could not to pace… and failed miserably.
'Mary would never do this,' she thought to herself as she walked back and forth along the halls of her childhood home. Where once this had been a familiar place now she felt like a stranger thanks to all the changes… both in Downton and herself. She ran Downton now, even without a baroness crown… and that was why she was pacing. Because she'd made a mistake and needed to correct it.
She just really… really… REALLY didn't want to.
Her thoughts went back to Mary again.
'She'd never have done this. Even if the Lord above suddenly descended from the clouds and declared that she had gotten the most simple and silly of facts wrong and all she had to do was admit that she was wrong and she'd be allowed into the afterlife she'd still grit her teeth and insist that she was right. That the problem was reality itself, not her. And even if she were forced to admit her error it would be done in such a flippant way that the apology would come off as an insult.'
But, as Sybil considered it during her 12th lap through the hall, that was the problem with her family: the ability to admit fault and ask for forgiveness.
All the Crawleys had that problem, not just Mary. Edith felt that if she apologized it would become another weapon used against her. Something the family ('Fine, Mary') would be able to hurl at her whenever she tried to air her own grievances. "How can you get mad, Edith, when you did something similar only 7 years, 3 months, and 2 days ago?"
Her mother could easily say she was sorry… except no one ever truly believed her. It was merely her saying what she knew people wanted to hear. Arguments were annoying things for her; unlike the rest of the girls mama and papa weren't ones who loved debate and the back and forth a good battle could bring. Even when her parents had been at their most angry (mostly when it came to her and Tom) they had tried to shove any debate aside. Not merely because they didn't want to hear Sybil's side, or anyone else's for that matter, but because they simply found the whole practice tedious. Quiet sullen brooding was their preferred course; Matthew had told Sybil that after her death her parents had slept in separate rooms for a month and barely said two words to each other, with Matthew and the rest of the family fearing that they'd never speak again until suddenly, one day, something happened in private and all was mended and they shared together their grief.
As for papa he would grumble and brood and finally mutter an apology and then move on, getting upset if one didn't let the issue go.
Even Matthew was horrible at it, as he tended to fill his apologizes with so much information about how he'd come to make the mistake that in the end one was begging him to simply BE QUIET and stop referencing case law.
'And then there is Granny,' Sybil thought to herself, smiling despite herself. 'Granny doesn't admit she was wrong. It was the fault of other people for either not telling her the truth of the situation or misunderstanding what she was saying.' Sybil had once seen her grandmother actually manage to convince everyone that it was completely acceptable to call a piece of fish 'chicken' after a slip of the tongue. 'Or maybe she just wore everyone down to the point that agreeing with her was the safer option.'
Yes, the Crawleys weren't good at giving apologizes. Dreadful at it, really. Yet Sybil knew she had to do this. And it was because of another Crawley that she now hovered at the door of the soldier she had wronged…
~Three Hours Earlier~
"Oh… papa," Sybil said in surprise, walking into her office only to find her father sitting at the desk, hands folded on his lap, looking about idly before he leapt to his feet upon realizing she had arrived. It was rather amusing… it made her feel like he had suddenly become a servant. She'd seen Carson and Anna and Mrs. Hughes leap to their feet like that plenty of times in her first life when she'd come downstairs to get lessons on cooking. "Please, have a seat," Sybil said, deciding that despite everything that was occurring between her father and her she could at least be civil towards him. He was, after all, her father, and no matter his mistakes that would never change. 'Honor thy mother and father', as the good book said, though she did rather like Tom's addition to that: 'The Lord said Honor… nothing though about having to like them'.
She didn't rush to get behind her desk and sit herself. She had a handful of charts she needed to file that she'd brought with her and these she set off to the side, making sure they were in place before returning to her desk. Sybil supposed that she might perform a kind of 'power move' as some might call it, demonstrating the sway she had by making him sit there, silent and watching as she carried on with her work. Many people in her position would have done that… savored the feeling of making the man that had tried to control her life meekly sit there. Or tried to prod them into another outburst, to prove that Sybil had been right about her father, that Mary had been right. That all of them had been right.
But she didn't.
'Honor thy mother and father'
"What can I do for you, papa," Sybil asked. Not with a smile but not with a frown either. Her voice wasn't hard nor was it filled with sweet kindness. Merely a statement of purpose. That was all.
"I wanted to talk."
Sybil forced herself not to sigh. So… they were finally going to have this conversation-
"I know you won't forgive me," her father said softly, looking down at his hands before wrenching his head up to stare at her, to meet her gaze. So it was going to be one of THOSE apologizes. A 'I'm not really going to apologize because you won't accept it but this let's me appear to be the bigger person-' "But I'm still going to give it because I want to. I am truly sorry… for so very many things."
Sybil blinked at that.
And what was more shocking was that her father actually began to talk about his faults.
"I am a stubborn man, my dear. Much like you and your sisters, really. And that can be a wonderful trait. Too many people in this world live their lives shifting their viewpoint, changing to better fit what others think they should be. What is acceptable and what is seen as correct. But we, you and your sisters and myself and your grandmother, what we do is form our opinion and stick with it." He tapped her desk with his finger. "We hold the line. We refuse to give in. It is the way in all aspects of our lives. My great grandfather was told that he should sell off half of our lands. 'They are too large to be managed, my lord', that is what he was told. He responded by spending every day for months on end visiting every corner of our holdings, getting to know all the tenant farmers and villagers, visiting little clearings in the woods and bends of the rivers and streams that I rather imagine few had seen with their own eyes before he set them down onto map. Because these lands were his and he wasn't going to give them up.
"It was the same with your mother and I. Your grandmother was set completely against the marriage. She felt I would be better served with an English bride. Someone who was soft spoken and polite to talk to at parties and then would meekly hide in her room. Someone who could hold onto my arm then shuffle away when not needed. But your mother… an American? Oh, she would never be meek about anything and your mama does not SHUFFLE."
Sybil smiled at that; yes, that was very true. Everyone said that the Crawley sisters didn't merely walk into a room they stormed it like a conqueror who already knew the battle was won. That had learned that by mimicking their mother's determined gait.
"I held firm though. I knowingly admit that my first reasons for marrying your mother were horrid ones, focused on all the wrong things… but I was lucky enough to find in her someone I could love even if it came about from seeds planted for the most selfish of reasons." He paused there, shifting. "I plan to send her a letter… and if she should respond I will be going to London to beg her forgiveness as well."
THAT truly startled Sybil. She had hoped her parents would work out their problems because no child wished to see their mother and father at each other's throats, snarling like wolves over a scrape of meat or drifting apart like two icebergs in the frigid seas. But she'd never expected Papa to take such forward motion in making things right. Asking for her mother to come to Downton? Yes, of course. Perhaps trying to get Sybil herself to be an intermediary? Possible. But for him to contact her and beg for a meeting where Cora Crawley would hold the advantage of knowledge of the lands?
This was truly a conversation that was startling her.
"That stubbornness as served our family well," her papa continued, not realizing just how thunderstruck Sybil had become. "Yet it also can harm us all greatly. Because when we find a position we stick with it for the most part. Build upon that rock our church. It becomes a foundation and we are slow to change it… or even alter it. Develop it." Her father shook his head. "Your grandmother was against me marrying Cora. Yet all she desired in my bride was the very opposite in how she felt a woman should behave in a marriage. Your grandmother wasn't a meek creature that allowed your grandfather to command her in all aspects of her life. They were bitter enemies at times just as much as they were committed partners. She didn't become as you know her suddenly and without warning. She was always like that. From the day they met."
"Then… if she was like that why did she wish for you to marry someone so different from herself?"
Her papa chuckled at that. "Because your grandmother has it in her head that she is a rebel. Yes, I know," he said, Sybil's brow furrowing at that little piece of information. "It seems so unlikely, doesn't it? She is so concerned about keeping things as they should be, tradition and the like. Rebellion and her seem so very different. Yet… think of how she is. The ways she enjoys to meddle in the affairs of others. How she will suddenly act so differently than how her peers do." He shook his head, mirthfully. "But I've come to realize something when it comes to rebels: the moment everyone else agrees with you… you are no longer a rebel. You're just… everyone else. And your granny doesn't like the idea of being normal. The same with me, I see now. We both rebelled against how others expected us to behave and yet had problems and grievances when our children did the same. I imagine when you are a mother the same will happen with your child."
Sybil blinked at that.
"Mother!" Catherine (because NEVER Sybie! Never!) moaned in annoyance, flopping down on a coach dramatically. "How can you suggest I actually work or care about bettering myself! All I wish to do is find a husband that will pamper me and tell me how I should think!"
She quickly shook that thought from her mind.
"I am a stubborn man," her father repeated. "But I am also a man that can grow… as amazing as that might seem to you. I know things cannot return as they once were… and frankly I'm not sure they should. You girls…" he smiled wistfully. "I've forced Tom and John and Anna to tell me all about your lives and I am so very proud of you three. Mary has settled into her married life so splendidly… I don't think she would have found such happiness with Patrick or anyone else. Edith is running a paper and that is simply smashing. And you!" He grinned. "You my dear… have helped so many people. So very many.
"So I know that things can not go back to the way they were. But I hope that with time I might create something new with all of you. If you will-"
Sybil couldn't do it anymore. Sit there and listen to him.
She had to act.
Her father's eyes went wide as she practically flung herself from her chair, around her desk, and pulled him into a hug. He sat there before a moment before he returned the embrace… first tentatively… then with firmness and strength.
"I forgive you," Sybil whispered.
~MC~MC~MC~
Her father had done what so many Crawleys had been unable to do: he'd broken through his stubbornness and pride and asked for forgiveness not because it was expected but because he was truly working to be worthy of it. And that humility in the face of such a massive error and gigantic blow to his own self image is why Sybil now squared her shoulders, did one final lap along the hall, and finally came to stop at the door to the private recovery room.
She raised her hand and, after only a slight moment of hesitation, knocked.
"OH… Lady Sybil. I'm sorry… Matron Crawley. That is still going to take some getting used to."
"Perfectly fine, Sir Anthony," Sybil said softly as the wounded knight looked down upon her. "Might I come in?"
"But of course, but of course!" the old man said pleasantly, stepping aside and allowing her access to his rooms. "Please, have a seat."
While most of the soldiers were kept on the first floor unless gravely wounded a few that held lands were given the pleasure of private rooms. Sir Anthony had been one such man; though, Sybil was ashamed to admit, it had not been kindness that had seen her make the decision to house him there. Rather it had been her desire to not even look at the man that had broken her sister's heart and proven himself a coward and the worst of the male sex.
'But he isn't that man,' her brain reminded herself yet again as she sat down in one of the chairs by the window, Sir Anthony moving to join her and offering her a spot of tea, which she politely declined. 'He never had feelings for Edith. Never even noticed her. He came for a single dinner within the last 3 years and before that was only a casual friend of the family. That is all. The sins of a life never led…'
"Sir Anthony, I've come to apologize to you," Sybil said and the man began to open his mouth, probably to tell her that there was no need, he completely understood, all of that noble gobshite, and thus Sybil plowed forward, refusing to let him have a chance to derail the conversation with his kindness. "When you came here it was… on the worst of days, to be frank."
"Your father?" Sir Anthony said before realizing he shouldn't speak. "Oh, I am dreadfully-"
She waved him off. "It is fine. And no, not my father. We have… we have actually found a bit of resolution on that front."
"That… that is very good." Sir Anthony smiled. "Your leaving Downton was heard about by many within our circles. A dreadful business. I am glad that your father came to his senses." Sybil leaned back at that and Sir Anthony chuckled. "You believed that I would assume the fault was your's? No no… even without your father recently admitting that the exile was his fault many knew the truth of the matter. Your grandmother was rather quick to defend your honor even as she did all she could to lessen the stain on your father's character."
'Granny,' Sybil thought with a shake of her head; of course she'd do something like that. Out loud she said, "Quite. And yes, the problem that day was not related to my father. Rather issues had arisen concerning another patient and my treatment of him… and how I was expected to behave. It had left me in a foul mood and when I saw you…"
"And I became a target of that anger?"
"An inappropriate target."
"I suppose I didn't make it any easier talking down to you as I did." Sir Anthony now shook his head, looking down at his lap. "My sister… a lovely woman but strong willed, you know that." She did. Sir Anthony's sister was like another granny within their world, taking command and steering the 'foolish, pigheaded men' to the correct path. "I fear if she ever learns how I spoke to you she will act as a common fishwife and take me over her knee and tan my bottom like I was a school boy."
Sybil decided she really didn't want to envision THAT lovely image and instead pressed on. "No, it did not but… that still does not give me the right to have spoken to you as I did. I blamed you for the sins of other men. That is something I would not have taken kindly to have you done the same to me. So I apologize for your treatment upon your arrival, Sir Anthony, and promise at the very least you will serve as a lesson on how to treat other people in the future."
"I suppose there is a silver lining there. That I might be the only one to take the blows while others are left in peace. Yes… I believe I can be quite happy with that." He smiled. "Apology more than accepted, Matron Crawley. And I hope you accept my own."
"I do." She rose to leave. "I will leave you-"
"If it isn't overstepping my bounds… the other soldier you had the issue with… it was Major Bryant, was it not?" Sybil started at that, surprised that Sir Anthony knew of the man considering Sybil's confrontation with him had occurred long before he'd arrived. Something must have shown on her features because Sir Anthony stated, "Men talk. About all things. Oh, we love to claim that it is women that are the gossips, constantly sharing stories that are meant to be private but men do it just as much. We have just given such talk different names so it sounds more kind and honorable."
"Of course," Sybil muttered, irking at another sign of the double standard between the sexes. She wasn't surprised by the hyprocrisy… but it didn't make the confirmation of it go down any smoother.
"Many tales have been whispered in Downton with Major Bryant's name attached to them. Your embrassment of him was one such story that has been often passed around. Men so do love such stories, of a man brought low. Especially when they have the arrogance of Major Bryant." Sir Anthony shook his head. "That man… he believes himself beloved by all, that every soldier hears of him and longs to be counted among his allies and friends. But you can only hide the foulness of your soul for so long before it comes bubbling up. So it has been with Major Bryant and behind his back many soldiers wish they could have seen you… well… that is-"
"Strike him in his Minor Bryant?" Sybil asked, still rather pleased with how she'd handled that situation.
Sir Anthony struggled not to laugh. "Quite. A new tale began though shortly after my arrival, one spread by Major Bryant himself. He claimed that you would come and grovel for his forgiveness." Sybil ground her teeth together at that. "He was quite vocal that any day you would arrive and admit openly how it was wrong of you to attack him as you did, that the fault was your own, and plead with him to show mercy. He was rather clear that he would give it… and why he thought you reacted as you did."
"I can wager a guess," Sybil said. "He believes I am in love with him and the sight of him with another… when it was merely 'harmless fun' or some drivel like that, drove me into the rage all flighty women enter into when their hearts are shattered."
"He perhaps didn't word it in such flowery language-" In other words he had been rather vulgar about it, "-but yes, that is a rough summary of his proclamation."
"So I can assume he hasn't been happy when I haven't played along with his vision of how reality should be?"
Sir Anthony shook his head. "Not in the slightest. Men talk… and your refusal to even come near him has caused some… issues… for Major Bryant and his standing with the other soldiers. The gossip has begun to spread around him once more."
Sybil shook her head. "That explains it."
"Hmm?"
She debated speaking but deciding that Sir Anthony had shown himself to be a decent fellow… and she honestly needed someone other than Matthew or Tom (who would most likely march up and deck Major Bryant out for how he had been speaking of her and her virtues) to discuss such things with.
"Dr. Clarkson came to me a while ago asking that I apologize to Major Bryant. His parents spoke with people connected with the army and threw a bit of a fuss about how I had… harmed their sweet little boy." The words tasted foul on her tongue as she said them. "I refused and he let it drop… until a few days ago when he broached the subject once more. The pressure became a bit more… intense."
Sir Anthony chuckled at that. "I won't claim to be a friend of yours, my dear, but even I know that it would take more than a few harsh words to get you to change your mind."
Sybil was rather proud that she'd gained that sort of reputation.
"Major Bryant is not pleased that I am one woman that will not fawn over him and beg for his attention." She shook her head in annoyance. "He is a troublemaker. He keeps the maids from doing their work and that makes my nurses angry that they are allowed to flirt with him while they know their jobs will be gone if I catch them in the act."
"Isn't the same true for the Downton staff? I can't imagine Mr. Carson allowing such things to happen. Or Mrs. Hughes."
"It is easy to find new nurses. Maids are a different story. They are in demand and they know it. Even a poor reference would allow them a job at a smaller estate. Until the War ends the Downstairs is in their control. And that knowledge causes them to act out… and my nurses to begin questioning why they shouldn't attempt the same things."
"And such actions with Major Bryant aren't enough to get them such a stain on their character as to truly harm them?"
"I've only caught them getting close to him. That is all. And they are quick to claim that it is MY mind that is foul and lustful for envisioning them doing such things." The old knight leaned back in his chair, a look of… interest… forming on his lips. "What is it?"
"Men love to gossip, same as women. This is known." He smiled, ever so slightly. "Would you care to hear some gossip, Matron Crawley."
"…very much so," Sybil said.
"What if I were to tell you that it is a well known secret among the men that there are spots in Downton that don't see much foot traffic. Spots where men might sneak away from the glares of their nurses and the officers like Col. Crawley. To sneak in a smoke… and not of the cigarette or cigar kind. To indulge in foods that are strictly forbidden. To play games of chance for actual money. And, in the case of Major Bryant… to see some of the women who work within these walls."
Sybil pressed her lips together. "And what if I were to ask you where one of these places was? And when Major Bryant liked to visit."
"Oh… I suppose I might be able to tell you. I am an old man… I do get bored and so do enjoy a ripping adventure."
Sybil smirked.
