"Are you done with the paper?" Sybil asked as she buttered the scone she'd grabbed from the basket on the table. "I wanted to take a look at the article on the suffrage movement in America. Its taken a bit of a backseat due to the war but I do believe it is going to begin picking up steam again."

"One moment…" he said, not looking up from the article he was reading as he reached over and grabbed a piece of toast to nibble on. "Yes," Matthew finally said with a smile as he folded the paper up. "I believe I am."

He then proceeded to walk over to a half filled pitcher of water and stick the paper inside.

"…so very mature, Matthew," Sybil said with mock sweetness

"I learned from you dear Sybil," he said, offering a mock toast… and she was rather sure if it weren't for the others in the room he'd dump his coffee on her head.

"Still enjoying this, Robert?" Tom asked with a chuckle, Sybil's father merely shaking his head while waving for Carson to bring them another pitcher of water that wasn't infested with newspaper ink.

Sybil, Matthew, and Tom were doing something she'd never thought she'd be doing again: having breakfast with her father. Sybil had honestly thought that the only time all of them would be in the same room together would involve her father in a casket and Travers giving a eulogy. Let alone sitting together and have a comfortable meal with each other.

Matthew reached out and pulled the plate of toast Sybil had been going for so it was JUST out of reach. Not enough she couldn't get to it but just enough that she actually had to stand to get it.

'Well, somewhat comfortable,' Sybil thought, out loud stating, "That was far more mature than the stunt with the paper. I do believe I'm wearing you down."

"Only because that toast is far darker than you prefer." She looked down to notice that yes, he was completely right, but Sybil refused to admit that and instead calmly began to figure out just how much jam she could politely slather on the toasted bread so she didn't gag on it.

"I noticed the farmers bringing in the last of the crop. Looks like we got in a good yield this year," Tom said to Robert.

"A very good yield," Sybil's father said with a smile. "I'm taking your advice, by the way, and advising as many that will listen to me to stockpile more than they normally would. Jams, preserves, whatever they can manage."

"The weather looks like it may turn bad for next year's group and with the way the War continues on and how few men there are in the fields…" Tom shook his head. "I know it seems ghastly to profit off of potential shortages…"

Robert sighed, nodding in agreement. "I admit that had you come to me even a year ago-"

"You would have wondered what I was doing here and cast me out for being a spy?" Tom said playfully.

Robert scoffed. "Not what I meant… though you are correct, I admit." The two shared a laugh at that. "What I was going to say was that if you had come to be before this year and suggested we begin hording our goods in anticipation of a shortage I would have declared you the most vile of brigands. Making coin off the desperation of others."

"But?" Tom asked.

Sybil's father took a moment to sip his coffee before continuing, Sybil munching on her overly jammed toast. "I began to think about our tenants. They are going to suffer as much as everyone else with the season that is to come after this winter. Should it truly be bad they will see a low amount of crops and lack the farm hands to bring it in. Is it right to demand that they suffer just because everyone else is? If I can help them, advise them on what to do to get through this horrible growing season to come…" He trailed off, looking at Tom.

"It will be horrid," Tom assured him. "All the signs are pointing to it. Weather… it moves in cycles. We are due for a poor one." He shrugged. "And if not then there is nothing hurt having extra food that will last."

"Exactly," Robert said. "And if they can sell those stored items for a higher cost to the… foolish… then why not? I won't have them taking bills hand over fist like some Chicago Hooligan but a bit of extra money won't hurt."

"And you aren't benefiting yourself," Tom said.

"Indeed," Robert stated. Sybil knew that Tom had convinced Robert to, for this upcoming year at least, put a cap on how much the fathers needed to pay the estate based on the yield they brought in. If they earned extra it was their's to keep in full; encouragement to push on harder than they had before. Matthew had argued about bringing in younger families that could actually manage the lands and tend to the crops rather than letting some rot due to old age and they were hungry for such challenges.

"And what of you, Matthew?" Robert said, turning to his heir. "What do you have planned today?"

"Oh," Matthew said, rubbing the side of his neck. "I don't know…"

"Must you?" Sybil asked in exasperation.

"Pardon?"

"You know what you are doing," she said with a scoff.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you are getting on about… I am rather tired though. But I'm sure I will manage to jab myself through this day and inject something into it-"

"You aren't nearly as clever as you think you are," Sybil told him. Matthew merely wiggled his eyebrows at her and she let out a huff, looking over at her father and Tom who were trying, and failing, to contain their mirth over the whole situation.

Perhaps calling their breakfast 'comfortable' was a tad too generous. Her papa and Tom were certainly having a lovely time, that was for sure, but as for Sybil and Matthew they found themselves trading barb and petty little pranks all throughout the meal. Already Sybil had used up all the cream so Matthew couldn't make his coffee as he wanted and he had responded by complimenting her how 'how she carried her weight, concealing it well'. Tom had been horrified and her father ducked his head and clearly said a silent prayer that all of this would be over soon.

Which just showed that her father hadn't been around his children for a long time because Matthew and her were being rather tame compared to what Edith and Mary had done to one another during their teenage years.

Her and Matthew… this was a fight among siblings, that was all. No true venom in their acts, no anger or hate. She had annoyed him so he responded back but getting petty revenge, forcing her to respond in kind. She knew that if she asked him to stop his actions at this very moment he would without hesitation.

"Well, I suppose so long as you aren't going to do horrid things with a firepoker…" she told him.

"You know the Americans believe one is innocent until proven guilty."

"We aren't in America."

"Thank Heaven for that," her father said only for his eyes to go wide as he realized what he'd just said aloud.

That opened the floodgates and soon all of them were laughing and snickering.

"I am sorry I could not find a better way to keep you from being a fool than stabbing you with a needle," Sybil said.

"Apology accepted," Matthew told her politely before going to serve himself seconds; it was rather unbecoming to do so, as you were supposed to be able to gauge how much you wished to eat when you first made up your plate, but frankly none of them were going to scold Matthew for indulging. They'd all had a stressful week with what had happened with William and Larry Gray.

Speaking of them… "Papa, have you heard from Mr. Mason when the funeral…"

"Your grandmother talked with him. As you can imagine quite a few people wish to pay their respects but we don't want to overwhelm Mr. Mason. We've decided there will be two services… first there will be a private one, where Mr. Mason and a few chosen guests will pay their last respects. William's father, John and Anna-"

"I would like to attend, if I could," Tom said.

Robert nodded. "I brought that up to mama and she said she saw no problem with it… she has taken on arranging everything with Mr. Mason, so he might not take on the burden himself."

"That is very kind of her," Matthew said.

"She feels terrible about William… blames herself for him enlisting." Robert looked down at his plate. "We all do, honestly."

"None of that, Papa," Sybil said. "As you stated we all feel at fault so no one can blame themselves. William wouldn't want that." He nodded though she knew at once he didn't believe a word she said. And honestly she didn't believe it herself. She would regret not doing all she herself could do to get William to not enlist. "Now then… after the private memorial?"

Her father nodded, lifting up his knife and fork and cutting into a sausage. "We will do a public memorial so everyone can have a chance to speak and honor William and show Mr. Mason how loved he was and how thankful we are for what he gave in service to his country."

"Which I suppose leads to the other matter at hand," Tom said. "Larry Grey."

"Quite," her father said, clearly wishing he could have avoided that conversation. "I've talked with General Lothrop… he stated that with the War going on investigating the case against Larry will take time." He held up his hand to stop Sybil from ranting. She would have been annoyed save for the fact that she had been getting ready to do just that. "I know what William said. But the fact remains that they want to ensure that this is done right. Not a single one of us want Larry to get away on a technicality."

"And there are plenty that exist," Matthew said. "Not only will his life be investigated but also William's. And all the soldiers that died. They will want to know everything, same as the lawyers that defend Larry. This could very well take years."

"I hope not," Tom muttered. "I would feel much better if the matter were settled now."

"We all would," Robert said, finishing off his last sausage before pushing away from the table. "Now then, I hate to run but I really must get to the library. King's College has provided me with a list of books that it is rather desperate to find for some of their scholars and I do believe we have at least three of them here. They will of course return them but copies can be made…"

"Yes yes, papa," Sybil said with a smile. "Go on and enjoy the musty smell of books." Then, to his surprise, she walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, causing Robert to start before he looked at her like a child awakening on Christmas morning to find every present under the tree was just for him.

"I…" he said, clearly at a lost for words.

"I know," she said gently.

Tom, finally, was merciful and spoke up to break the tension. "I will join you after lunch, Robert. I wish to finish the article I am working on…"

"Take your time, Tom. I am thankful for the help no matter when it comes."

Sybil and Matthew watched the two men leave the dining room before Matthew turned to Carson, who had been silent during the entire breakfast. "Tell me… did you ever believe you would see men such as those two become friends?"

"I can easily admit I never did," Carson said.

"Carson," Sybil said, walking over and placing a hand on his wrist, "if I know Granny she will suggest I get a place in the smaller, more private service. But, if you are overlooked… I will ask you be allowed to go in my stead."

"My lady-"

"You knew William far better than I did, Carson. You and Mrs. Hughes have earned the right to say goodbye."

The butler look in a breath, squaring his shoulders before finally speaking. "I would be rather thankful for that, my lady. It… it is a strange thing, to know that he is gone. I keep expecting him to return at any moment, asking me to explain something to him. And I would hem and huff but I would do it. A good butler should care for his staff, of course but… they should remember that there must be a barrier. A division between them and those that work under them. For the good of the house." His jaw twitched and Sybil could feel Carson begin to shake. "I… I was not a very good butler then, I suppose. For I did allow William into my heart. I… I find myself realizing he was very much like a son to me…" He took another breath.

Sybil opened her mouth to offer comfort but Matthew suddenly pulled her away. "Carson… I was thinking that tonight Lady Sybil and I would join Robert and Tom for dinner. It seems foolish not to. I don't want to make a large fuss over it but perhaps you might select a proper wine? One from the deeper part of the cellar?"

Carson blinked, his eyes having grown red, only to suddenly manage a soft smile. "Thank you, Mr. Crawley. I mean… of course sir."

Sybil glanced at Matthew as the butler hurried away but her brother-in-law did not answer until he was well sure that Carson couldn't hear them. "Had you told him to weep he would have scorned that emotion as weak and unbefitting a man of his station. And he would have scolded himself for revealing his feelings to you. Now he has an excuse to go to the cellar and express his grief without any realizing what he is doing. 'So much dust, irritates the eyes', 'Needed to find the right bottle'. Those sorts of things."

"I hate that you have the right of that," Sybil complained. "I would much rather him be honest and open with us."

"I'm afraid old Carson is from a different generation. It will take us to influence the next so they are more open."

"Us? I believe you mean you and Mary."

"No, I meant us. I don't care if the hope for Tom becoming agent has passed and he is destined to be a famous newspaper man… I need you two to help me when it comes to Downton. Edith has already found a reason to scurry off to London and not return I won't allow you to do the same."

Sybil sighed at that, rolling her eyes… though at once she saw a new vision of her future. 'Yes, Tom is seeing success as a writer now and this time he won't be forced out…' She scowled as she remembered how foolish he had been in her first life, allowing his political views to nearly ruin them all. Exiled forever from Ireland, only spared because the Irish Government feared her (and that always made her smile), and most of all LYING to her… their marriage had survived well enough but she couldn't help but wonder, if she had lived, would they have been able to return to as they had been back in Dublin? Or would she have remembered what they lost because of his foolishness while he tried to lie again?

It didn't matter now, as Sybil would not hold what Tom had done in that life against the man she now knew; he was so very different while being the same.

'Michael is a better employer and with Edith there working with Tom he has the barriers he needs to be great without losing himself. And the General has shown him there is good within the English government. Bloody hell, he's friends with papa now! That is… that is simply an impossibility I could never see happening in my first life.'

Her mind drifted to the new vision for their future. Tom and her establishing a paper nearby, perhaps in Ripton. Him hiring on a few eager lads and ladies to write, Sybil herself learning how to help, making deals with Edith and Michael to be able to reprint stories they ran for a small fee…

"Hmmm," Matthew said suddenly, drawing her attention.

"What?"

"Just… just a thought. One I suppose I can only share with you, that is giving me a touch of comfort."

"And that is?"

"What if William is right now waking up in the past just as we did and is now working to change his own destiny?"

Sybil blinked before finding herself smiling at that. "I… I like thinking of it that way. It would be tougher for him than it was for us but perhaps he would manage even better than we did."

"Of course he would. William would ensure there was no war at all!" Matthew threw out his arms wide. "In fact right now in his world there is a new era of peace and happiness! We should be rather humbled he has done better than us."

"Oh, very much so!" Sybil teased and it felt so very good to feel happy for once.

The two of them continued down the hall and to the stairs only to run into Mrs. Hughes who looked oddly flustered. The soldier Matthew had been working with recently, Henry Talbot, was standing next to her, wringing his hands together. "Lady Sybil… I'm sorry. Matron Crawley-"

"You may call me whatever you wish, Mrs. Hughes," Sybil assured her before turning to Matthew. "Can you give me a moment?"

"Of course," Matthew said before motioning for Henry to follow him.

"Mrs. Hughes," Sybil said, "I was wondering if perhaps within the next day or so I might borrow you to assist with an issue that has arisen… and settling it."

"And whatever issue might that be?" the head housekeeper asked.

"I won't insult your intelligence in asking if you are aware of how one of your maids has been with one of the soldiers."

"I'd ask which one as frankly they have both given me far too much trouble on that count. And I would assume this concerns Major Bryant."

"It does," Sybil said simply.

"What is it you need from me?" Mrs. Hughes asked. "Though I must ask, my lady, that if you are seeking to cause harm in any form to my staff I can not be a part of it."

Sybil heard the unsaid, "but I won't stop you" but didn't say a word on that count. Instead she merely stated, "No harm. Think of it more as… opening the eyes of the woman in question."

"I have been trying to do that on three years now and failed. If you can manage I will go to the Vatican to have you made a saint."

"You aren't catholic, Mrs. Hughes."

"I will be that impressed."

Sybil chuckled lightly at that. "Then if I send for you two…"

"I will come and bring Ethel with me."

"Thank you." She looked over at Matthew and Henry who were having a very… animated discussion. No anger or the like coming from them by Sybil could still tell that this wasn't a discussion of the weather or the like. "Do you know what Mr. Talbot needed?"

"I do. And I am afraid you will less happy about it than I am."

"That awful?"

"It is… well, Mr. Carson would said it created complications where none were needed."

"Hmmm, that wonderful then," Sybil snarked before sighing. "Then I suppose it is up to me to assist."

"I hope you can, my lady."

Sybil took her leave of the head housekeeper when went over to Matthew, looking between the two men and honestly wishing that there would be SOMEONE at Downton that didn't make her feel like a small child tugging on jacket hems when she wanted their attention. Between Henry and Matthew Sybil might as well have been a church mouse when standing next to the two of them.

"What seems to be the issue?" she asked flatly, deciding to cut to the heart of the matter.

"Something I truly hope won't be an issue," Henry said, "but that I fear will become one."

Matthew glanced at her and, to her confusion, seemed less annoyed and more… bemused. Only she would be able to tell… Mary too, if she were there… as he did well to hide it but she had spent so much time with Matthew she could read his feelings and thoughts as if he were screaming them aloud.

"Henry here had to bring in a soldier who made some rather… interesting comments about Downton."

The soldier sighed, running his hands through his hair. "It may have been nothing. Men sometimes like to talk and puff themselves up a bit, making other believe they are smarter or more worldly than they actually are. Yet… it still bothers me, which is why I brought it to you now. The things the man said… it was very subtle at times while other moments it felt as if the man were trying to get me to engage with him. I didn't because I worried just what he might be hinting at and didn't want to make him believe I desired any part of his… well, I don't want to say scheme but…"

"What sort of comments?" Sybil asked.

Henry shift, clearly not liking the situation he'd found himself in. "He made comments about Downton. How odd it was to be heading here. He would comment on things and then suddenly make a rather big deal out him speaking hypothetically. "Do you think the roses had a good year this year" followed by, "Assuming they grow roses, of course"."

Sybil frowned at that, crossing her arms over her chest. "How very peculiar."

"And what of Sybil and her sisters," Matthew asked.

"He asked about what I had heard of the three of you, if you were still living here. I told him that only you were and he said he hoped to see you… except I swear he almost said 'again'. Yet at the same time the way he lingered on the word… it was like he wanted me to hear that he was trying to not say it, if that makes any sense."

"It is beginning too," Sybil said as it dawned on her just who this stranger was… and claiming they were. "And when you told him about Mary?"

"He wondered if she would come and I told him I didn't know. And he quickly grew quiet, sensing it wasn't his place to ask about the Earl of Grantham's daughter."

"I wonder how he'll feel when I reveal we've married," Matthew said with a smirk before looking at Sybil. "Our new arrival was rather badly burned."

Sybil nodded at that. 'Him,' she thought. 'That scoundrel who claimed to be Patrick.' There had never been a doubt in her mind that the soldier was a fraud, though her reasoning was far different from the rest of the family and how they'd come to their own conclusions. Granny and papa had felt the need to be respectful to Matthew due to his injury. Mama hadn't said a word that Sybil could remember which wasn't surprising as her mother had never been a deep fan of Matthew's in their first life, warming to him only when it was clear he would become Mary's husband. As for Mary herself she had been in love with Matthew even while she was with Carlisle and Matthew with Lavinia and that drove her to defend him; honestly Sybil wondered how no one else had realized how much Mary longed to repair her relationship with Matthew after how she had defended him as only a wife would a husband.

'And I never trusted him,' she thought darkly. 'He refused to allow me to tend to him until he realized I was Mary and Edith's sister and then suddenly he wanted me to be his private nurse and spoke of our good times… ignoring the fact that Patrick and I never got along.'

"What has you scowling?" Matthew asked and Sybil blinked, coming out of her thoughts. "He is merely asking questions and burned. Neither are wrong."

It was a subtle thing, what he was saying: don't reveal future knowledge, get a hold of yourself.

Sybil took a breath and nodded. "Sorry. Other matters I am dealing with. But you have my attention now."

Henry nodded, not quite looking sure of that but accepting her comment without pressing any further like a good chap. "Though I admit that is all I have on the matter. I just thought the man odd and wanted to bring it to your attention."

"Thank you for that," Matthew said. "We'll keep a close eye on the gent. Now, we're on for cards tonight, correct?"

Henry, for the first time since they'd begun their conversation, smiled genuinely. "Yes and I plan this time to win back what you took for me last week."

"Are you taking money from soldiers?!" Sybil said, glaring at Matthew who smiled innocently.

"Not quite. We use slips of paper that represent gold and silver and the like."

"Oh… I suppose that is fine." She turned to Henry. "Thank you again, Henry."

"Quite alright Matron Crawley. Hopefully it is nothing."

"Seems like his hopes have already been dashed away," Matthew murmured the moment Henry was gone. "The Fake Patrick. I honestly forgot he showed up the last time."

"How could you forget almost losing Downton?" Sybil asked before instantly correcting herself, "Right, I forgot, you were a prig back then."

"Losing the ability to walk does do that to a man," Matthew said with a slight growl.

"Yes yes, of course," Sybil said but she knew she wasn't sounding convincing at all and from the way Matthew was staring at her it was clear he wasn't buying a word she was saying. Not that she had been trying all that hard. "Now then, what do you suggest we do concerning our Fake Heir?"

Matthew and she began to walk through Downton once more, halting their conversation till they reached one of the game room studies that wasn't occupied at the moment. It was the billards room and Matthew quietly closed and locked the door before handing her a pool cue and racking up the balls. Sybil wasn't very good at the game and it would be seen as unladylike to play but it kept them moving as they talked and sometimes that was the best thing for the both of them. And the noise helped drown out their voices from those that might be trying to listen in.

"Nothing," Matthew said as he gestured for her to break.

"Nothing?"

"What can we do? He hasn't revealed himself to be a fake yet. He hasn't claimed to be your cousin or Robert's heir."

"We can warn papa," Sybil pointed out as she hit the cue ball, only to catch herself and sigh. "No… we can't, can we?"

"Not without either seeming mad or revealing the truth about ourselves." He watched as Sybil lined up another shot, missing it and moving out of the way so Matthew could begin dominating the table; she really needed to sneak down her more and have Tom show her how to play. "I'd be more worried if Robert and I were still on the outs, of course. A year ago? Oh, he would have embraced the fake Patrick with open arms and crowed to the world that he had an heir." Matthew pursed his lips, stopping himself just as he had prepared to hit the cue ball. "I wonder if that is his motive? He heard that Robert and I were feuding and how Robert longed for a war hero heir and he decided to sweep in."

"Perhaps but that wasn't his motive the last time. You were a war hero on the front in our first life."

"True," Matthew said with a sigh, sinking the ball and moving to the next one. "All we can do is wait for him to press that he is really Patrick and take action. A pity a real Patrick was never fingerprinted."

"We could spend the money to have him investigated… that is what Papa planned to do. That and the War Office was involved though they closed the investigation when he fled."

"There is something else we might consider," Matthew said, taking another shot only to fail to get the ball in the pocket, allowing Sybil at turn. He leaned on his pool cue as she draped herself over the table and prepared her shot. "Do you remember the chap-" He paused only to then snicker. "Sorry, no. That is horribly worded and this will be as well. Do you remember the name of the man who worked at the Forgien Office who is most likely actually our Fake Patrick?"

"That was a mouthful," Sybil teased. "And yes. Peter Gordon. Which only shows how unoriginal our fake was in calling himself 'Patrick Gordon'." She shook her head. "I can't remember what Edith claimed was his reason for picking that last name but I do remember finding it very foolish she bought into the tale."

"Edith was lonely back then. And hadn't developed the spine of steel she has in this life," Matthew chided her. "Be nice."

Sybil merely took her shot and let out a soft cheer when she managed to get the ball in the pocket. "Yes yes but it still annoys me that she was taken in by such a fraud. His story was just… manic. She still clung to it, even after the war was done. Only stopped when you and Mary got engaged because she knew our sister would scratch her eyes out if she made one more comment about the true Heir of Downton being driven off by his family." She took another shot and failed to do anything of meaning on the table and thus passed to Mathew. "But amnesia after being rescued on the Titanic?" She suddenly remembered Edith's story. "Oh… and taking his last name from a bottle of scotch that JUST so happened to also be Peter Gordon's last name who ALSO ended up in Canada? Madness."

Matthew nodded at that. "And so very convenient that anything that could be used to identify him was damaged or destroyed. The loss of his hand, the scars… I'm not saying, of course, he did it on purpose but it is clear that Mary had the right of it: he was a scoundrel that decided to try and take advantage of us all."

"We won't let him this time. If he attempts it he will be brought down to size and this time answer for his crimes."

Matthew though shook his head. "The man fled back to Canada. Let him be."

"And allow him to trick another grieving family?" she asked.

"Touche," Matthew said. "Then we prepare. It is the only thing we can do. Robert leaves for London in two days to make amends with your mother and attempt to meet with Mary… that will leave us with this Fake Patrick and we will see if we can deal with him before he Robert returns."

Sybil paused, a sly smile forming on her lips. "You know… I think I might know someone better to deal with him. And in worst case there is our ace in the hole" She put the cue back on the rack. "If you'll excuse me."

"And that ace would be?"

"Granny."