Notes From Sarah

Bet on Me

Link on Archive of Our Own

Rating: T

Summary: Lady Sybil Crawley and chauffeur Tom Branson were never supposed to fall in love. When they do, the path forward isn’t an easy one to navigate. Sybil risks losing everyone she’s ever loved, but Tom promises that if she bets on him they’ll find a way through together. The missing moments of Tom and Sybil’s romance from season 2. Canon compliant.

A/N: This fic will have four chapters, subsequent chapters will be in the reblogs.

Chapter 1 - Patching Things Up

Tom didn’t mean to, but he kept pushing. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t mean to, exactly, he just didn’t mean for his pushing to be pushy. He had thought that it wouldn’t take much time for Sybil to come around to her feelings for him. Maybe a few weeks, once she got settled in as a nurse and got used to her new schedule. Here he was, months later, and still no word or sign from her. Oh, yes, she would come down to the garage for a chat often enough. Or when the weather was bad he would drive her to the hospital so she wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. But in that whole time she never uttered a word about what she might feel for him.

At first he let it slide. He figured she was just waiting for the right moment. When he’d gotten his draft notice he thought she might say something then. But she didn’t. When he’d told her his plan of protest against the general he thought maybe she’d want him to take at least a word of love with him when he went to jail. But still she didn’t say anything. He was beginning to get desperate and he wasn’t really at his best when he was desperate.

What frustrated him the most is that Sybil went on and on about how she didn’t care about class, about how it was all so ridiculous, but then when he asked her to just be honest about her feelings towards him and impregnable class wall went up fast. He didn’t think she was lying, but the whole experience was making him even more bitter against the English – if that were possible.

Somehow, since Sybil had returned from her nursing course, the two of them had started a routine where almost every day she would stop by the garage and talk for a few minutes. Most often they didn’t talk about much important, but the fact that she kept doing it kept Tom’s hopes alive. If she wasn’t in love with him, why did she seek him out so much? She’d never done that before so it had to be because she was trying to find a way to tell him her feelings. So, every day he would save some small chores and wait to see if Sybil would turn up. Most often she did, but some days would see him disappointed.

She didn’t disappoint tonight. Tom had been passing the time fussing with some gaskets that needed cleaned. They didn’t really take long to get cleaned up and ready to go again, but a person could make a real meal of it if they had the mind to. He was sitting at the workbench in his shirtsleeves mindlessly wiping each gasket with a clean rag. When he heard the dainty heeled footsteps on the gravel he jumped to his feet, his work forgotten.

The dim, warm light of the garage spilled onto the gravel outside and cast Sybil in a radiant, glowing warmth. She always looked like an angel to Tom, but on these nights when she was illuminated like she was, he truly thought she must be from another dimension. “Good evening,” she greeted him.

He nodded at her. “Good evening.” Maybe this would be the night, maybe she would finally tell him how she felt. Tell him that she wanted to marry him and run away together. Tom had thought these thoughts every time she’d come to visit him for months now, and every night he thought them again.

“How are you tonight?” Sybil stepped just inside the garage door. She always made sure to maintain a ladylike distance from him if they were alone in the garage together. The distance felt like a thousand miles to Tom.

“I’m well enough,” said Tom. It seemed like she’d just come to chitchat, which he normally would have been fine with if it weren’t for oceans of yearning that were threatening to drown him at any given moment. “I heard you had a busy day at the hospital.”

Sybil nodded, stepping one step further into the garage. “It wasn’t bad, but I had a lot to do. I didn’t even get my tea break. I was so busy I just forgot all about it.”

“Some days can be like that.” Tom put his hands behind his back and leaned against the workbench. “Had you ever missed your tea before you started working at the hospital?”

“Only as a punishment from Nanny,” Sybil replied, stepping one step closer. Tom was certain that she felt the same draw that he did. The inexplicable force that was pulling them towards each other.

“Do you think you could manage to live in a world where you don’t always get your tea?” Tom wasn’t trying to be belligerent, he just wanted her to see that the gulf between them wasn’t as insurmountable as it seemed.

“Aren’t I already?” was Sybil’s response. “I know what you’re trying to say. But it’s not the discomforts of an ordinary life that are keeping me from saying yes.”

“Then what is?” Tom was trying to keep the frustration from his voice. Sybil had been holding him on the precipice for months now and he was beginning to get demoralized.

“Look,” said Sybil, taking another step closer. “You are literally asking for everything, my whole life, in one go. You not only say you love me, but that you want to marry me too. You want to take me away from my family and the only life I’ve ever known and all the people I’ve ever known and you spring that on me all at once and then are surprised when I’m not immediately flinging myself into your arms.” Sybil’s tone was that of the determined arguer that Tom knew and loved so well. However, he’d never had it turned against himself before.

“So, what does that mean? That you don’t like that I see a future for us together?” of course Tom knew that he was asking a lot, but he was prepared to offer a lot in return.

“I’m saying that you’re coming at this all wrong. You never even told me you liked me, or even tried to kiss me. You just jumped straight to running away together like Romeo and Juliet.” Sybil crossed her arms over her chest. “And we all know how that one turned out.”

“I won’t play about,” said Tom. “I told you what I feel and what I want. I see no point in acting like I feel less than I do or want less than I dream.” He was, however, wondering if maybe he hadn’t considered the romantic angle quite thoroughly enough. He’d meant to woo her, meant to charm her and romance her and sweep her off her feet. He just sort of forgot in the moment and made a right mess of it all. There was no going back, however. He’d just have to try and make the mess work for him.

Sybil gave an exasperated sigh. “That might be fine if your feelings and your dreams were the only thing that mattered, but they aren’t.”

“I can hardly take the feelings of someone else into account if they haven’t shared them with me, now can I?” Tom retorted. “I told you I loved you last year now, and I told you again not long after the first time. And I’ve continued telling you and given you every moment to say what you feel for me in return, but you haven’t.”

“You’re being impossible tonight,” said Sybil as she threw her hands up in resignation. “I’ll bid you goodnight.”

Tom was also exasperated by this conversation. “I know you love me, one day you’re going to come down here and finally admit it. Then we can dream together, you and I.”

Sybil just turned and left the garage. He could hear her shoes on the gravel getting quieter and quieter as she marched back to the house.

Tom sighed and hung his head. Why wouldn’t she just admit it? Why was she playing coy? It really wasn’t like her and he didn’t know how to get her to just be honest with him. Turning back to his gaskets he dumped the lot of them into a box to be dealt with the next day. He was in no mood to play with anything tonight.

~~~~~

The following night Sybil came down to the garage again. This time better prepared for the arguments of petulant Irishmen. She’d been thinking of what she was going to say all day long as she washed and ironed bed sheets for the hospital. She’d tried to address every angle that Tom might bring up, and tried to think how to phrase everything in the nicest way possible. She didn’t want to hurt him, she just wanted him to stop being so naïve about everything. This time, Sybil was sure that they could finally come to an understanding that didn’t leave Tom pining after her like a lost puppy.

The night air was refreshingly cool on her bare arms as she trekked down to the garage. Coming to stand in the open door she paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the light. Tom was there as she expected him to be. Tonight he had some small metal parts and he was scrubbing at them with a little brush. “Good evening,” she greeted him, trying to not let yesterday’s frustration leak into today’s conversation.

Tom stood. He was in his shirtsleeves as he usually was when he worked. This time his tie hung loose around his neck exposing his throat. “Good evening, Lady Sybil.”

So they were back to that. Sybil ignored the “lady” for the time being. She really did want to get beyond wherever they were right now because all it seemed to do was make them both miserable. “I hoped we might talk some tonight. Things went a little sideways last night and I thought maybe we could have a do-over.” One thing Sybil had always treasured about her relationship with Tom was that he was always forthright with her. He never hid his meaning under seven layers of deceit and double entendre, he always just meant what he said.

Tom put aside the brush he’d been holding and put his hands in his pockets. “The way I see it, the only thing left to be said between us is that you love me. All the rest is detail.”

Sybil wanted to let out a groan. Sometimes Tom’s forthrightness was giving her a headache. Part of her did love Tom, or at least think she did. She wasn’t entirely sure on that front. She’d never been in love before, not like the kind of love that makes you blurt out a confession in front of a bunch of convalescing soldiers. Yes, she wanted to tell him how she felt. She wanted to kiss him and hold him and maybe do even more than that, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to run off and marry him. And that was the price of her own confession. He would take it as an acceptance of his proposal and she wasn’t ready for that. She might never be ready for that. Marriage to Tom meant a complete divorce from her family. The clothes and the jewels and the servants she could live without just fine. She didn’t think she could live without Mama and Granny or her sisters. Those people were her whole world and if she knew anything about her father it was that he’d forbid them to have anything to do with her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing them forever.

“Can’t we talk about this in a calm manner?” Sybil was hoping that Tom might be willing to be reasonable, even if only so they might talk longer. She knew he longed to see her each day, she was beginning to long after him too. Which was why it was so annoying that he just kept harping on about her saying she loved him.

“I’m perfectly calm,” Tom shrugged, hands still in his pockets. It was a little thing, but it so clearly marked him out as lower class. It was one of the many, many thousands of differences between them that wouldn’t magically go away just because they swapped I love yous. Sybil couldn’t understand how she was the only one being practical about this.

“Good,” said Sybil, trying to keep on a positive note while they had it. “I wanted to tell you first off that I’m not here to make any sort of confession. But I do want to clear the air if we can.” She thought it might help not to get his hopes up and have him start angling for her to say something particular. She went back and forth between looking him in the eye and looking away. The way he stared at her was too intense. His blue eyes would at times stir a strong and dangerous feeling in the lower part of her body. If she locked eyes with him for too long she was afraid of what she might do. She didn’t want to run away with him, not really, but more and more frequently now she had started to fantasize about what it might be like.

Tom did look disappointed at her statement of non-confession. “Then what is it you wanted to say.” He leaned back against the workbench and in the dim, golden light of the garage Sybil thought he’d never looked more beautiful. Gazing at him, her eyes traced down the sliver of exposed throat and she wondered what the rest of him might look like. She lost her train of thought for a moment before suddenly coming back to herself and shaking her head.

“I didn’t come here with a specific task in mind,” Sybil said as she tried to refocus. “I just wondered, I guess, if you’ve really thought all of this through?” Thinking through all of it had been Sybil’s sole preoccupation of late. She hoped he’d put at least as much thought into it as she had.

“I have,” said Tom. “And I know that we can make it anywhere if we have each other.” Sybil loved the way Tom talked about them. The surety and confidence he had that their love would be strong enough to overcome any obstacle. She might even say she admired it if it wasn’t also so damn idealistic.

“Don’t you think it’s jumping the gun a bit to go from ‘hello’ to ‘let’s get married’ with nothing in between?” Sybil decided to start there. There was no way that she could ever have a normal courtship with Tom, but that didn’t mean it had to go from nothing to everything all at once. Some part of her even relished the idea of a covert romance away from prying eyes and nosy questions. But a romance didn’t have to mean marriage and she was hoping maybe Tom would be willing to put on the brakes a bit.

Tom looked to the floor. It seemed that maybe he had been thinking over his speed-of-light run from servant to wannabe fiancé and realizing that strategy had some flaws. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t worth romancing. And I’m sorry if I’ve gone about all this in the wrong ways. I love you, truly, and I’m more than happy to prove it to you in whatever way I can.”

Sybil gave an inward sigh of relief. Tom was being conciliatory so maybe they could actually get somewhere from here. “I believe you, and I’m not asking you to prove anything either. I think maybe we rather got off on the wrong foot here and maybe we can get back into step.”

Tom took his hands out of his pockets and took as step towards her. “Just tell me what I can do, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

Sybil realized he was hoping for some magic formula to get her to say yes. He was probably hoping for her to say “I want a sapphire ring” or “take me somewhere romantic and woo me properly” and if he did so, she’d fall into his arms and agree to marry him. “Can we take marriage off the table?”

Tom looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“You wanting to marry me,” said Sybil. “It’s too big an issue. It’s too much. I can’t see the situation clearly because of it. We could just put it aside altogether and not talk on it. Just focus on what’s left.”

Tom’s eyes searched her face. She could tell he hadn’t been expecting this. “But what is there to talk of without it?”

“All sorts of things, I imagine.” If Sybil could just get Tom to agree not to bring up marriage, then maybe she could say some of the things she was feeling. But while it was on the table it lay there like a trap and one stray word might snare her. “People can have romances and do all kinds of things without bringing marriage into the equation.” Sybil wasn’t sure she was quite libertine enough to carry on some sort of love affair with Tom, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t either, if the chance was offered.

“So, you don’t want to marry me, but you want to carry one with me? Is that right?” Tom’s voice was drenched with disbelief. His eyes wide with the implication of what she said.

“I didn’t say that,” Sybil sidestepped. “I would just like to see what this particular situation might be like without considering marriage as a part of it. That’s all.” Sybil was choosing her words with exceptional care.

“And your plan is, what, we take away marriage and have some sort of clandestine love affair?” Tom took another step closer to her as if he was having trouble understanding her words. “That I’m to be your dirty little secret that you don’t have to tell anyone about? You keep me hidden away all hush-hush while you pursue a more appropriate man?” Tom was speculating wildly and hurting his own feelings in the process.

“No,” Sybil said at once. “I didn’t say any of that and I didn’t imply it either. You’re twisting my words. If ever I were to enter into a relationship with someone it would be fully, and without reservation. And if I were to ever keep a romance secret it wouldn’t be because I was ashamed. It would be because I just wanted to keep it to myself and not have to share with anyone. Don’t be offended by things I didn’t say.”

Tom set his jaw. He, it seemed, was going to be offended. “It’s late,” he said to let her know he was done talking.

Sybil closed her eyes. This had all gone so horribly wrong. “I’ll leave you for tonight, but we still need to talk it over,” she said as she turned for the door.

“There’s nothing to talk over,” Tom called after her. “Either you love me, or you don’t.”

After tonight, Sybil was leaning towards don’t.

~~~~~

Tom was somewhere between furious and brokenhearted as he entered his cottage and slammed the door behind him. Leaning his back against the door he just took in a few deep breaths. He’d always been so certain that class didn’t matter to Sybil. It was one of the things he admired about her most. The fact that she’d gone to so much trouble to help Gwen get a new job with upward mobility was proof positive that she didn’t care one whit about what someone’s social status was. So why was she acting like this?

Deep down, Tom was afraid that it was because of him. Sybil might not care about class and all that when it came to helping a poor working girl get a leg up, but when it came to him? It seemed that making a public commitment was just a bridge too far. It was almost insulting, really, that she would suggest taking marriage out of the equation. Either he would have her in the way that was legal and proper and for all the world to see, or not at all. He wasn’t about to be a scandalous secret shoved far in the back of the closet. She would be proud of her love for him or he wasn’t having it.

Sinking to the floor, Tom sat glumly with his arms resting on his knees. He knew there was nothing wrong with him, nothing shameful about his work or his family or where he came from. He’d never been to prison, he lived clean and didn’t drink to excess. He didn’t gamble much and was smart with his money. He was well-read and constantly educated himself despite not having much formal schooling. He had a good relationship with his parents and got along with most of his brothers and sisters, Kieran being the sole exception. He was a hard worker and did a good job at whatever he put his hand to. He didn’t carouse or stay out late or chase girls or have sex or visit prostitutes. He even went to church and confession sometimes, admittedly it had been a while, but he wasn’t against it or anything. He and Sybil got along well and shared many small adventures together, often keeping them quiet from Lord and Lady Grantham. The only thing, literally the only thing that could possibly be keeping Sybil from wanting to marry him was that he was the wrong class.

He thought she was better than that. He had been so sure that she saw him as a person first and a servant far last. It was clear enough to him now why she’d been so reluctant to say anything about her feelings. She did have them, but she wasn’t about to waste feelings on a man she saw no future with. Sybil was holding out, hoping that maybe he’d lower his dreams and lower himself to being the torrid plaything of a lady. That way she could have what she wanted without any risk.

A few days after William’s death, Sybil stopped by the garage to order the car. She and Tom hadn’t really spoken since their spat a little while ago. She hadn’t meant to avoid him, she’d just been so busy with everything with the hospital, then with Matthew and William coming in, she hadn’t had time for anything except for a few curt words with Tom. He kept pushing her to say something, and maybe she should have by now. At this point she wasn’t really being fair. If she told him she wasn’t in love with him, it would be a lie. And worse, he might just leave her alone. If she told him she was in love with him, it would be the truth. And it would mean saying goodbye to everyone she’d ever loved. For months now she’d survived in the middle ground of not saying anything. It wasn’t fair to Tom, but she didn’t know how else to keep everything in balance.

Standing in the doorway in her nurses uniform, she looked in. The last time they’d spoken – argued really – Tom had managed to compare their love to the overthrow of the Tsar and the murder of the Russian Imperial family. Sybil was beginning to think that her middle ground of not admitting her feelings to him might just be making Tom a little irrational.

It was also that last time they’d talked that Tom had touched her for the first time. He had put his hand out to stop her from leaving and had placed a hand on her waist. It wasn’t an alarming move, but it breached one the final barriers between them. So far they’d had very little physical contact. Only him taking her hand to help her in and out of the car. Tom, despite his protestations that he really saw her as an equal and that the class issue was a mere fiction, had always been very mindful to not touch her. But then he forgot. He put his hand out to her like she was a normal girl, and he a normal boy. The touch had only lasted an instant. He remembered himself and withdrew, but it had been there and had given Sybil a pause. She had wanted to kiss him then, but had somehow found it in herself to not break the careful neutrality she’d spent so long cultivating. Besides, it was hardly good practice to give in to a man so easily when he’d just been so obnoxious.

Ever since then, when she’d managed to find a moment to think, she’d thought of little else than that touch. For an instant she had felt what it was to be a normal girl and ever since then she’d been craving it again. She wanted to be just Sybil. More than anything, this war had shown her just how much she wanted a normal life. She was getting to the point where she was imagining this other life on a daily basis. And, of course, imagining it with Tom.

Tom didn’t hear her come in, he was leaning half-inside the car and seemed to be sweeping it out with a small hand-broom. Sybil paused, taking a moment to admire the lines of his body as he was bent over. She flushed a little when she realized what she was doing and tried to redirect her thoughts to her purpose. “Tom?” she said, to alert him to her presence.

Tom jumped and spun around. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you there.” He laid aside the whisk broom. His eyes searched her face as they always did in the hopes that this would be the time. Sybil had gotten used to the expression and it was starting to make her feel bad that she still wouldn’t say anything yet.

Sybil looked to the ground and tried to remember why she was here. “I wanted to ask you to take me in to Ripon tomorrow. Probably around ten o’clock.”

Tom nodded. For once he didn’t seem to have anything else to say. No hints or suggestions or arrogant proclamations of how she must feel a certain way about him and he’d have her say it one way or another. It seemed like some of the fight had gone out of him a bit, and Sybil thought she knew why.

“Was William a good friend of yours?” She hated that she really didn’t know anything at all about the lives of the servants. All of them living in the same house and she couldn’t tell you much about any of them. They, of course, always knew much more about the family than the family did them. Servants were supposed to fade away into the background like furniture or the wallpaper. They were supposed to barely exist. That had been another thing that had made her unsure of Tom. Yes, they shared the odd political rally or other such thing, but he rarely talked about himself when they did talk. He usually wanted to talk politics: women’s suffrage, socialism, Irish freedom and the like. But never himself. She hadn’t a clue about his family, his friends, his religion, his other interests, how he was with money or drink or other vices. She had no idea.

He, of course, knew so much more about her. Tom knew all her friends and relations and she knew all the servants gossiped about the family when they were alone together. He knew her politics and where she bought her clothes and what foods she liked best. The gulf of information between them was maddening in so many ways.

And now, once again the servant-master divide showed itself. A young man who’d lived under the same roof as her for years had died and she wasn’t even sure who his friends were.

Tom nodded again as he put his hands in his pockets. “He was. He was always a good lad. Kind, and generous to a fault.” His voice was soft and there was a tenderness in the way he recalled William.

“I’m sorry,” was all Sybil could say. “I can’t say that I knew him very well.”

Tom looked up and their eyes met. Sybil steeled herself for a lecture on how the upper classes didn’t care about the proletariat and how the whole system was corrupt and needed to be torn down. “I wish you could have, you would have liked him a lot,” was all Tom said before looking down at the ground.

Sybil’s stomach twisted and she wanted to cry. The lecture might have been preferable. She was suddenly vividly aware of the masses of good people she would never be friends with as long as she remained Lady Sybil. All the companions she was missing out on because of her place in society. All the laughter and joy and abiding happiness she didn’t have access to because of her station. She’d missed so much already. With William she’d missed it completely. She never got to know him and now she never would. The injustice of it was suffocating. She felt like she was being crushed to death by the weight of it all.

Sybil rushed forward and put a hand on Tom’s arm. “Please, can we stop fighting?” Tom looked down at her hand in surprise, then up into her face. “I’m understanding now more than ever how fragile it all is, how we’ve got to be good to the people in our life because it’s so easy to lose them.”

“Does this mean-” Tom started. But Sybil shook her head, cutting him off.

“I’m not ready to say that I’ll run away with you. I just want to stop fighting about if or when I’ll say it. I want to be able to enjoy the time we spend near each other because it’s impossible to say when our last moments together might be.” Sybil’s face was full of emotion and her hand on Tom’s arm was firm.

“You’re right,” said Tom, his beautiful eyes flicking over her face. “And I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass this entire time. I really am. I’ve never been in love like this before and sometimes it makes it hard to think clearly. Or at all.”

Sybil smiled. It was the first time she’d smiled at him in a bit. It was the first time she’d been able to relax around him in a long time.

“I won’t pester you anymore. Or, I’ll try not to,” said Tom. “But please, do give me a real yes or no.”

“I’m not ready to give an answer yet,” said Sybil. “But I promise I will give you one, I won’t keep you dangling forever. I haven’t meant to dangle you at all, it just sort of happened by accident.” Sybil withdrew her hand from Tom. “Just give me a little more time.”

“As long as you give me an answer, that’s all I need,” said Tom.

~~~~~

The waiting felt different now. Even though more and more weeks passed by, Tom had a sense of security about Sybil. When she finally gave him her answer, he knew what it would be. The surety of her love for him allowed the time to pass without difficulty. Sybil would come more often to the garage and sometimes they would end up talking quite late. As autumn arrived there was a feeling in the air that the war was coming to a close and Tom was beginning to think of what his next move would be.

“Are you busy?” asked Sybil one evening as she came into the garage after escaping dinner.

“I’m never too busy for you,” said Tom as he stood up from the stool he’d been sitting on at his workbench. Folding up the paper he’d been reading, Tom tossed it on the table.

Sybil smiled. “I have a little time tonight, I thought we could talk.”

Tom smiled at her and looked her up and down. Sybil always looked gorgeous to him. He black hair and blue eyes haunted his imagination. Tonight she was wearing her black and gold gown with her hair swept up in an elaborate style. It was quite the contrast to her nursing uniform. His eyes traced over the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone then back over her bare arms. The hints of her body driving his imagination to all sorts of places.

“What do you want to talk about?” Tom asked at last, getting something of a grip on himself.

“I thought maybe we could talk about you. I’ve come to realize I know next to nothing about you, not really.” Sybil drew near to him and Tom thought his heart might just stop beating after skipping so many beats.

“There’s not much to know about me,” said Tom. He really wasn’t sure what she was after. “I’m very much as you see me.”

“Can we go for a walk?” asked Sybil. “Maybe it’ll be easier to talk that way.”

Tom nodded, bemused, and the pair of them exited the garage. Night provided a deep cover for them as they strolled along together. “So, what are you dying to know about me?” Tom really couldn’t even begin to guess what she might not know about him. They’d talked close to every day for years, certainly everything important had been spoken of.

“Well, I know a lot about your politics, but not much else. Why don’t you tell me about your religion? I’ve always assumed you’re Catholic, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked.” Currently, they were keeping to the gravel. The soft crunching under their feet providing background noise.

“I think of myself as a Catholic-Athiest,” said Tom. He was completely serious, too.

Sybil was quiet for a long minute. “How does that work, exactly?” she said at last.

“Well, I believe Marx when he said that religion is the opium of the masses,” said Tom. “And I believe it’s been holding humanity back for hundreds of years now. All of it is a load of medieval superstition that has no place in a modern world. In the future I think we’ll all be more enlightened and won’t let religion drive us into conflict. The coming revolutions are going to depend on people who put aside petty sectarian differences and realize that we need modern, scientific beliefs if we’re ever to escape the dark ages of monarchy and church authority. But-” Tom smiled to himself knowing how contradictory this was about to sound, “I’m still Catholic.”

“Are Catholics allowed to be atheists?” Sybil asked, her voice carrying a hint of laughter at the absurdity of it all.

“I didn’t exactly write the Pope and ask his permission,” said Tom. “But I see no reason why I can’t be both.”

Sybil laughed. “I suppose you must not be very strict anyway, since you want to marry me.”

Tom turned to look at Sybil. He could make her out dimly as she walked next to him. “I don’t think something as silly as religion should stand in the way of two people who love each other.”

She glanced up at him. There was no sound save their footfalls on the stones as they looked at each other in the dark for a long minute before looking away again. “So it wouldn’t be a problem for you to be married in a registry office?” asked Sybil.

Tom could feel that she was getting closer to her answer. It wouldn’t be long now. “I’d get married in the woods by a fairy if it meant being with you.”

“Have you told your family about me?” Sybil asked.

“A little,” said Tom. “I’ve written my mother that there’s an English girl I’m in love with, but I haven’t said much else. I just didn’t want her to be shocked when I tell her that we’re to be married.”

“And what did your mother say?”

Tom gave a wry smile. As much as he was a Catholic-Athiest, his mother most certainly was not. “The first three words in her letter back were ‘is she Catholic?’ which I did not respond to, but I’m sure she knows that means no.”

Sybil laughed a little. “Would your family ever be able to accept someone like me?”

“They would, yes, because you’re a good person and that’s more important than anything else.” Tom knew his mother would probably take a while to come around to the fact that Sybil wasn’t Catholic. However, he was certain that with time she and Sybil would get along and eventually she’d stop caring. “It will certainly go easier than the other direction with your family.”

Tom was more than sure that Sybil and her family would not fall out permanently, but Lord Grantham had a strong temper and could hold a grudge. It would be a year at least, maybe longer, before His Lordship would be able to see sense about the thing. Tom figured that was playing a big part in Sybil’s hesitation. She didn’t want to be on the outs with her father and he really couldn’t blame her for being worried. He just hoped that her love for him might outweigh her fear of her father’s tantrums.

“Tell me more about your family,” Sybil asked as they continued down the gravel path. Tom noted that she opted not to talk about how her family might react to him.

“It’s a pretty normal one, I think,” said Tom. “I have a mother and father, and brothers and sisters. Aunts, uncles, cousins, that sort of thing.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have? I always wanted a brother, not even for the inheritance or anything, I just thought it would be fun to have one.” Sybil shivered a little in the cool night air.

“Are you cold?” Tom asked.

“Just a bit,” said Sybil. “It’s starting to get chilly out here at night, autumn is really setting in.”

Tom unbuttoned his coat and took it off, placing it around her shoulders. “You don’t need to catch a chill.”

Sybil pulled the coat around herself. “Thank you,” she said.

The pair of them made a big loop around the property before ending back near the house. They walked slowly and talked the entire time. Mostly, they discussed Tom. Sybil seemed to have a particular interest in learning more about Tom which solidified even further his feeling that she was close to saying yes. She wanted to know what she was getting into, which meant she wanted to get into it.

The walk took quite a while, neither of them interested in rushing things. Tom would have loved to put his arm around her waist or to hold her hand, but he held back. He couldn’t do that until she agreed to be his. Instead, he had to be content with walking by her side, the scent of her gardenia perfume lingering on the night air. And for now, it was enough. He knew he could wait for her until the end of days if need be, as long as she would be his.

Eventually, their route and conversation had deposited them near the front door of Downton. Tom wished he didn’t have to say goodnight, but he could hardly keep her out any longer without raising suspicion. They stood in front of the door and Sybil handed Tom his coat back. “Thanks again for the loan of your coat, it kept me quite warm.”

Tom took it, looking at her with longing and not daring to say or do anything this near to the house. “I hope you have a pleasant night, m’lady.”

Sybil smiled at him and turned toward the door. Tom put his coat on and headed back to his garage. The faint scent of gardenia clung to the coat and almost made Tom turn back and confess his love to Sybil all over again. Somehow, he managed not to. It wouldn’t be that many more nights that he and Sybil would be parted from each other. It wouldn’t be too much longer before they shared a home and a bed and a life together. All scented with gardenias. He could manage the waiting, he knew it wouldn’t be long now.

~~~~~

It was months later before the day finally came. The war ended, and Christmas came and went, and the New Year was rung in and Sybil still didn’t return an answer, but she’d started to say “soon.” Every time they’d speak she’d promise “soon,” and Tom knew she was nerving herself up for the break with her family. He supposed it would be a hard one with lots of hurt feelings all around, but all he could think about was how he was that much closer to being hers. As the convalescent hospital wound down and Sybil found herself out of a job it seemed clear that there wasn’t much left keeping her at Downton.

When Sybil came to the garage that night and told him she’d finally made up her mind it was the best day of Tom’s life. For the first time he kissed her and held her in his arms and it was as if a dream had come true. He never wanted to stop kissing her, and she seemed to feel the same because the pair stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for many, many long minutes.

The feeling of her body pressed against his, his hands reaching around her waist, sent an electric thrill though Tom that even high voltage couldn’t quite replicate. He was very careful not to mess her up, but Sybil seemed to have no such compunction as she ran her fingers through his hair and pressed kisses against his cheek and neck. Tom was also afraid to touch her dress very much, it being made of fine silks. While his hands were clean he was still frightened of spoiling her gown somehow. Sybil, on the other hand, ran her hands freely over his back and up his chest. It was only her arms and neck and throat that Tom dared touch freely, and even then with caution. It was like he was being allowed to touch the Holy Grail, both wonderful and terrifying and every bit a thousand times better than he’d ever imagined.

Eventually they were out of breath and in a state where they either had to cool their ardor or give in to it fully. Stepping back, Sybil fanned herself with a hand. “I think we should run away,” she said.

Tom was at a point where if she’d said “let’s go to the moon,” he’d have agreed with her. “Where? When?”

“Gretna Green. Tomorrow,” said Sybil. “I don’t want to put it off any longer. We’ve waited too long as it is. I’ll beg off dinner tomorrow and we’ll be gone before anyone misses us. By the time we’re found out we’ll be wed and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

Tom joyfully said, “I’ll be ready.”

~~~~~

“Mr. and Mrs. Branson,” said Tom as he and Sybil checked into the Swan Inn, it would be true enough in a few hours anyway. The innkeeper cast a glance at Sybil who quickly hid the un-ringed fingers on her left hand. The innkeeper sighed but didn’t ask any questions. Silently, they were handed a key to an upstairs room and the two elopers made their way up the narrow staircase.

The room held one bed, a chair and a few other sticks of shabby furniture. Tom set Sybil’s suitcase down on the trunk at the end of the bed and took off his coat. Sybil put her arms around Tom’s neck and kissed him. He kissed her back and for a moment they let the long years’ worth of yearning take over them. Tom’s hands ran freely over Sybil’s body as he finally dared to touch her like a man does his lover. He ran a hand over her waist and down her backside. His other hand came up to cup her breast. Sybil had similarly amorous thoughts. She was unbuttoning his waistcoat and her hand trailed in the direction of his belt. Carried away, the pair of them moved to the bed where Sybil pulled Tom on top of her and kissed him till he couldn’t think straight. Her arms around him, the scent of gardenias enveloping him, Tom was more than ready to crawl into Sybil’s arms and never leave.

Breaking off the kiss, Sybil looked up at him. Her blue eyes sparkling and happier than he’d seen her in a long time. “I’m ready,” she whispered in her soft, sweet voice. “I’m ready to be your wife in every way. Be with me tonight and tomorrow we’ll be wed and have each other for all the rest of our lives.”

Sybil was so beautiful. Tom was sure if she’d asked him to jump off a cliff right now he’d do so with no hesitation. But there was a thought nagging at him that he couldn’t ignore. Sybil leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back. “No, we can’t, not tonight. Not till we’re properly married. I can wait that long.”

Sybil looked a little confused. “Don’t you want to?” One of her legs was already curled up around his. Their bodies were pressed together and each could feel just about every curve and contour of the other.

“More than anything,” said Tom. He knew his own resolve was weak, so he hoped that she didn’t push. “But I won’t have it said that I seduced you and you had to marry me for the shame of it. Or for any other reason.” Tom moved his hand from her breast to her stomach. He certainly didn’t want anyone to think they were getting married because she was pregnant and had no choice. “We will be wed before I take you to bed and I defy anyone to have a problem with that.” Slowly, almost painfully, he disentangled himself from her arms. If Sybil had resisted at all he might not have been able to go through with it, but she didn’t.

“You’re right,” said Sybil. “Elopement or no, we will do things the proper way and give no scandal on our part.”

Tom rose from the bed and Sybil sat up and straightened herself. “I’ll sleep in the chair,” said Tom. “And you in the bed so there’s no temptation in the dark.”

Sybil smiled. “I hope there’s a little temptation.”

“We must wait,” Tom implored. He wouldn’t make it if she didn’t also show some restraint.

“Very well,” said Sybil as she sat properly in the bed with even her shoes on and covered herself with the blanket. “We will avoid temptation by talking about the weather. What do you know of the forecast tomorrow?”

Tom smiled as he did up the buttons on his waistcoat. Picking up the spare blanket from the trunk he sat down in the chair. “Probably cloudy, but we might get a little sun. It’s not unheard of this time of year.”

The drive back alone from the Swan Inn was one of the longest trips Tom had ever taken in his life. The entire time he was questioning, doubting, uncertain. For so long he’d been so sure that Sybil’s love for him was enough to weather all storms, but the way she’d been so quickly swayed by her sisters told him that it wouldn’t be so easy to part her from the Crawley family.

He’d left early to return the car before anyone noticed it was gone and it seemed that no one had noticed him missing. It also seemed that neither Mary nor Edith had told anyone about his involvement in the attempted elopement because the police weren’t waiting for him when he arrived. Still, Tom knew he living on borrowed time. One of his friends in Ireland had told him of a new newspaper he had started and that he was looking for writers. The first thing Tom did once he got back to Downton was go to the telegraph office and let his friend know he wanted the job. The second thing Tom did was to tell Mr. Carson he was handing in his notice. Whether the newspaper decided to hire him or not, he wasn’t about to be a figure of suspicion or ridicule for the Crawley sisters.

“This is all very sudden,” Mr. Carson said in response to Tom’s resignation. “I didn’t think you were unhappy here.”

“I’m not unhappy, Mr. Carson, but I think it’s about time I go home.” It was a true enough statement. Tom had planned to go back to Ireland just as soon as Sybil agreed to marry him. He just hadn’t expected it to take this long.

“I see. Are you planning on working out your notice so that we can get someone new hired?” Mr. Carson seemed not to want to hear any more about Tom and Ireland.

“I was going to stick around for a week, I don’t mean to leave you high and dry.” Tom wasn’t even sure he’d be allowed to stay that long, but he wasn’t going to need any longer. He and Sybil would be public knowledge soon enough.

“You say that, and yet you do,” said Mr. Carson. “Very well, I will make sure to get an advertisement posted immediately. You will have a reference and your due wages.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carson.” Tom knew this was his last chance to say anything before everything came out. He was sure Mr. Carson would be against him every bit as much as His Lordship was. “And thank you, I’ve really enjoyed my time working here. It’s been nice to know all of you and I appreciate the friends I’ve found here.”

Mr. Carson, not one for sentiment, did seem to be a bit mollified in his irritation at having to replace someone on such short notice. “You have done a good job, and aside from a few hiccups you’ve conducted yourself with great dignity as befits this house.” Tom knew this was high praise from Mr. Carson. He hoped the old butler wouldn’t be too angry when the news broke.

Leaving Mr. Carson’s office, Tom went back to the garage. His needed to talk to Sybil, but he could hardly barge into her room and demand to speak to her. Once again, he had to wait. He was tired. He hadn’t slept at all after Sybil had left him. And the long drive back from the inn had worn him out. Still, he changed into his livery and began cleaning the cars. He might run off with the Earl’s daughter, but no one could ever complain about how he kept the cars.

Both cars needed a good, thorough cleaning after driving so far. They were muddy and bug-splattered and covered in dust from the road. It was enough to keep him occupied and almost enough to keep him from fretting too much. He knew Sybil loved him, he knew she wanted to be his wife. He trusted that she’d come back to him, that all this was just a bump in the road. Still, an edge of doubt gnawed at him. What if her sisters convinced her to throw him over? What if the sisters told Lord Grantham and the man was able to turn Sybil away from him? Could Sybil be so easily turned away once she’d made her mind up?

Tom wasn’t sure. Yesterday he would have staked everything he had on “no,” but then she’d gone home with Mary and Edith and now he didn’t know. Certainly Sybil loved him, but perhaps she loved her family more. The thought itched at him like a rash as he first cleaned one car, then the other. The process took the better part of the morning and he spent extra time making sure every water stain was buffed out. The windows and mirrors were returned to being crystal clear, and a person could easily see themselves reflected in the paint on the body of each car. After shining the bumper and wiping the tires, Tom really had no more to do. Sitting on one of the running boards, Tom looked towards the door of the garage and waited.

Sybil finally came that afternoon. She looked exhausted and Tom wondered if she’d been able to sleep at all. He rose as she entered and went to her, but he hesitated to hug her. He had to hear what she had to say first.

“I’ve snuck out, I don’t have much time,” said Sybil. “Mary and Edith are guarding me like a princess in a tower.”

“What are we going to do,” asked Tom. He needed to know that she still wanted to marry him, that she hadn’t been turned away from him by her love for her family.

“We’re going to tell them all together tomorrow after dinner,” said Sybil. “Mary and Edith were right, I shouldn’t have tried to elope. I need to face my family and tell them the truth. If they don’t like it, well, that’s their problem.”

Tom smiled with relief. “I was worried you may have changed your mind.” The knot in his stomach lessened some.

Sybil shook her head. “Maybe I would have once, but not now. I know what I want and it’s you and the life we’re going to have together.”

Tom leaned in and kissed her, overjoyed to hear those words. “Tomorrow you said?”

Sybil nodded. “Come after dinner, we’ll announce it and tell them our plan.” She paused. “Actually, what is our plan?”

Tom laughed. Eloping to Gretna Green hadn’t worked out, but he’d long had another idea in mind. The streets of Dublin were calling to him and he was pretty sure on that newspaper position, he expected to hear back later today. And anyway, the winds of change were blowing and it was long past due for him return home. He was able to sum up his plan in one word, “Ireland.”

~~~~~

Sybil and Tom’s announcement of their engagement to the family had gone about as well as Tom could have expected, but he hadn’t been fully prepared for the insults Lord Grantham lobbed at him. He and His Lordship had always gotten along well, and generally Tom thought well of the man. But to be told that he bowed and scraped really got his blood boiling. He’d worked for the man for six years and in all the time he’d done a good job, but when it came down to it, Lord Grantham could only see him as a servant getting out of line. Mr. Carson hadn’t taken the news much better, but had at least spared Tom the insults.

Now, Tom was waiting at the Grantham Arms till Sybil was ready to leave. She’d said she would try to get out and talk to him, but he didn’t expect to see much of her until Matthew and Lavinia’s wedding. He expected that most of that time she would be preoccupied by her family harassing her to change her mind. He was confident that she wouldn’t, not now that she announced it to everyone.

There was a knock on the door and Tom’s heart leapt. He was sure it was Sybil, but as he opened the door he was disappointed to see Lady Edith. “Can we talk?” asked Edith as she looked up and down the hall in case anyone were to see.

Tom stepped back and waved for Edith to enter. “I have very little in the way of hospitality to offer you, m’lady.”

Edith entered the room and closed the door behind her. “I know it’s not exactly proper, but you’re almost my brother-in-law so I’ll risk it.”

Tom had a feeling he knew why she was here. “I suppose you want to try and convince me to leave your sister alone. You think that I’m ruining her life and stealing her away from where she belongs.” Tom’s voice bristled with agitation. He was ready to fight anyone he had to.

“No, not at all. I know the others don’t approve, and I don’t really think I do either, but Sybil’s certain. And if there’s one thing I know about Sybil, if she’s certain there’s no stopping her.” Edith opened her handbag and began to look for something. “No, I came here because Lady Grantham is terribly ill. She and Lavinia both came down with influenza so Sybil asked me to tell you that she wouldn’t be able to stop by. She’s doing her best to nurse them both, along with all of the staff that are coming down with it.” Finding what she was looking for, Edith pulled a letter out of her purse. “She asked me to give you this letter and to tell you that she’s not ignoring you, she just needs to take care of our mother.”

Tom softened. Ever since he’d taught her to drive, he and Edith had been a bit different together. Not friends, per se, but she certainly saw him as more of a person than most of the others did. “Thank you for telling me.” Taking the letter he saw his name in Sybil’s hand on the back. “Are you against us?” he asked. If he were to find an ally she might be his only chance.

“I don’t know, really,” said Edith. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I don’t think you’re bad or anything like that. I’m just worried about Sybil, I suppose.”

“And you’re a good sister to worry,” said Tom. “I promise that I’ll take care of her, though.”

Edith nodded. “I believe you will.” Now that her errand was done, Edith moved over to the door. Taking the handle she looked over her shoulder at Tom. “I hope you’ll be happy together. I really mean it.”

~~~~~

It wasn’t till after Lavinia’s funeral that Tom got to see Sybil again. He felt badly about the poor girl taken by the flu, but it was hard for him to not also be overjoyed that he could finally leave with Sybil like they’d planned. The funeral, it seemed, had cooled Lord Grantham’s fire. Sybil’s delight as her father relented and gave his blessing, and the way she beamed at him also had the effect of changing Tom’s mind about another matter too.

As he and Sybil walked away from the churchyard, finally, openly hand in hand, he glanced over at Sybil. “Are you going to miss them?”

“Of course I will,” said Sybil. “They’re my family. But I’m not going to miss my life here, if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t mean that,” said Tom. “You proved long ago that you won’t miss the Downton life.”

Tom had fully intended on telling Sybil about Lord Grantham’s attempted bribe. About how her father had left the bedside of his dying wife in order to chase him off with a large check. Tom had never been so insulted in his life as he had at that moment. He wasn’t a violent man, but if it had been anyone other than Sybil’s father he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have clocked the fellow for the affront. He knew it would make Sybil angry if he told her. Maybe even angry enough to not speak to her father ever again. And if things were going to be left on bad terms then maybe it didn’t matter anyway so he might as well make her aware of what had happened.

But now he couldn’t do it. He saw now how much she really loved her father and was craving Lord Grantham’s approval and good graces. She might be a free spirit, but she wasn’t completely without tethers of her own.

“I thought we might try and leave on Monday,” said Sybil. “That way we have time to book everything and pack properly.” By we, she clearly meant herself because all that Tom owned fit nicely in one small suitcase. He only had two changes of clothes and one pair of shoes. The rest was his few books, some letters and the various trinkets and accessories one gathers over time. He’d worn livery the entire time he was at Downton and he wasn’t much of a pack rat so he’d never had much in the way of personal belongings.

Tom nodded. After all the waiting, what did a little more matter. “We’ll leave early if we can, that way we aren’t landing in Dublin too late.”

“I can’t wait to meet your family,” said Sybil. “I hope they like me.”

Tom squeezed her hand. “They’ll love you, I already know it. I know my Ma is against it but once she meets you she’ll come round. Anyway, we have three months to get them used to you.”

Sybil sighed. “Three months. It seems like such a long time, doesn’t it?”

Tom sighed too. The reading of the bans was a formality, but one that couldn’t be rushed. “I’m sure the summer will fly by,” said Tom. He looked over at her and said with a wink, “Or we could steal your father’s car and elope again.”

Sybil laughed. “No, we won’t try that one again. I want to do it properly. Besides, it will give me time to decide what I’m going to wear.”

“I’ve been waiting for three years,” said Tom, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, “three more months doesn’t make a bit of difference.”

~~~~~

Tom left the Grantham Arms headed in the direction of the motor station to hire a car for the next morning. After so many false starts and close calls, he and Sybil were finally setting off together. He’d arranged everything, gotten the train tickets and booked passage to Ireland. His family would be waiting for him when they disembarked in Dublin. It was all starting to feel real. He would finally be Sybil’s husband. After wanting it for so long it was hard to believe it was actually happening.

As he walked through the village he silently said goodbye to all the places he’d grown to know over the last 6 years. All the shops and businesses and even many of the people. It was a nice little town, a bit too small for his tastes – he vastly preferred city life in a place like Dublin or Liverpool or London – but a nice town for the kinds of people who lived here. He, too, was going to miss his friends at Downton. He thought highly of them and they were all good people, except maybe Miss O’Brien who had taken special care to criticize him every time she saw him since the first day he set foot in the house.

As he rounded a corner someone called to him across the street. “Branson.” Tom looked over to see Matthew crossing the street, cane in hand.

Tom paused and waited for the other man to get to him. “Hello, Mr. Matthew,” he said.

“I was hoping to catch you before you’d gone off,” said Matthew. Tom could see the man was still in grief over the death of his fiancée. Not only the black clothes, but the hollowness in his eyes belied his state.

“What is it you wanted?” Tom really wasn’t sure what Matthew might want with him unless it was a very last-ditch attempt to shoo him off. But Tom didn’t think so, it wasn’t in Matthew’s character.

Matthew pointed to a bench with his cane and the pair made their way there and sat down. Tom knew Matthew was still easily tired when standing or walking. Matthew seemed to consider for a moment before speaking and Tom got the idea that he was choosing his words carefully. “I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage,” he began. “I wish you two every happiness.”

Tom was sure that even those pleasantries were probably painful to say as Matthew had been hearing them himself so much lately. However, Tom got the feeling that Matthew had not hailed him in the streets to say something he could have written in a card. He nodded and said, “Thank you.”

“I know that Sybil’s family isn’t happy about all this,” said Matthew in the understatement of the century, “but I wanted you to know that I’m on your side. You and Sybil’s.”

Tom gave Matthew an appreciative smile. “It means a lot for you to say that.”

“And I want you to know,” Matthew began, “that if you ever need help, for whatever reason, don’t hesitate to give me a call. I am more than happy to lend a hand if you ever need it. And you don’t need to be afraid that I’ll tell anyone because I won’t. It’ll just be between you and me.”

Tom knew Matthew meant well, and that his offer wasn’t coming from a place of condescension, but he felt keenly that none of the Crawley’s had any faith that he’d be able to provide for Sybil and give her a happy life. Still, he appreciated the spirit of generosity that prompted such offers and Matthew was a good man for caring.

Tom thought back to the by-election in ‘14 when Sybil had gotten hurt in a fight Matthew had with some ruffians. The three of them had come a long way since that time and so much had changed in the meantime.

Tom nodded again. “Thank you for the offer, I’ll keep it in mind.” Tom had absolutely no intention of ever needing or taking help from any of the Crawley’s but there was no point in saying that now. They would see soon enough that he and Sybil were right, and Ireland would be the fertile soil where their dreams would grow and bloom.

Matthew clapped Tom on the shoulder and got to his feet. “Don’t forget,” he said, “I’m on your side.”

~~~~~

Sybil dried her eyes and blinked back her tears as she came down stairs for the final time. Saying goodbye to her parents had been harder than she imagined. They weren’t going to see her off at the front door because they didn’t want to give the appearance of approval, and she didn’t really care about the formality of it or turning out the servants to stand in a line or anything, but the rejection still stung.

Mama had tried not to cry the entirety of the last few days but Sybil knew this was difficult for her. Mama had barely let her go to train in York for two months, now she was moving to Ireland for the rest of her life. Her mother made her promise to write every week without fail and to tell her every detail of what was going on. The final goodbye had been painful as her mother clung to her with an almost supernatural strength.

Papa on the other hand, had hardly said two words to her the morning of her departure. When she kissed him and said she’d miss him he only replied to say that he hoped she had a safe journey. His final embrace was perfunctory and Sybil was reminded of all the times she’d made him cross as a little girl. If he wasn’t shouting, he was pouting. His cold behavior made it that much easier for her to leave them, but she was hurt that their parting couldn’t be a joyful one.

As she came down the stairs Carson was waiting with her suitcase. Sybil had packed light but picked her pieces carefully. Mary and Edith offered to bring anything else she might want when they came for the wedding. Sybil still hoped against hope that maybe her parents would mellow a bit between now and then, and maybe they would come too. But Mary said not to count on it and she supposed Mary was right.

“Are you ready, my lady?” asked Carson as he picked up her case.

Sybil couldn’t decide if there was a layer of extra meaning in Carson’s question or not, but either way the answer was the same. “I am.” Looking around the hall she asked, “Are my sisters outside?”

“They are, they wanted to see you off safely.” Carson walked with her to the door. “If I may say, I hope you know how much all of us will miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you all too,” said Sybil, suddenly fighting against a fresh wave of tears. How could Carson be so much warmer to her than her own father? “And I hope it is not too long before we all see each other again.” She hoped that it wouldn’t take too long for Papa to cool down and welcome Tom into the family. Maybe by Christmas, or next summer. She hoped in the meantime that she could forget the pain of his rejection, but she thought that might last longer than her father’s anger. Shaking her head to rid herself of the tears, she squared her shoulders and raised her head high. She was doing the right thing here, she had no doubt about it.

As Carson opened the door for her and Sybil stepped out onto the stoop he asked, “Is there anything else you need?”