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“Don’t you think,” said Violet as she sat down to tea with Cora and Isobel in her drawing room, “that it’s high time we get Branson sorted?”
“Sorted?” said Cora. “Sorted how?”
Violet exchanged a look with Isobel. “I mean, he’s still living in dear Sybil’s room.”
Cora struggled to decode Violet’s meaning. “Is there a problem with that?”
“I don’t mean to sound like a Victorian in this incredibly modern year of nineteen-twenty,” said Violet. “But our dear Sybil’s bedroom is in the ladies corridor. It’s not really appropriate for a young, unmarried man to be living there next to Edith.”
Cora sat back in her chair. She was often shocked by Violet and today was no exception. “Unmarried?” Cora repeated the word in disbelief. “I think you mean widowed, it’s hardly been any time at all since-” Cora stopped herself. She couldn’t even say it.
Violet raised a placating hand. “I know, and I don’t mean to sound heartless.”
“I think Cousin Violet is right this time,” said Isobel. “While it shouldn’t be anyone’s concern, it might create scandal for Tom and Edith and we wouldn’t want that. And I can’t imagine it’s very easy for him to go to bed each night where his wife died.”
Cora opened her mouth to say something, but nothing seemed right. Tom and Sybbie were the last connections she had to Sybil and to just throw Tom out of her room because he wasn’t married any longer just seemed cold. “I don’t know why we’d even consider moving him when he hasn’t complained any. Don’t you think it’s heartless to act like he’s some sort of bachelor when his wife just-” Cora had to stop again. She still couldn’t say it.
Violet picked up her teacup and took a sip. “I would never act like Branson is a bachelor.”
“Tom,” Cora cut in.
“Tom,” Violet corrected. “I just don’t want to see any gossip that might effect Edith come out of this. And I agree with Cousin Isobel. It’s very hard to sleep in the same bed your spouse dies in.”
Cora relented a little, knowing that Violet and Isobel both had that shared experience. One that she prayed would be many years away for her. “I think it’s too soon to bother over it all. Don’t you think moving him would just upset everyone?” Part of Cora wanted to keep everything in Sybil’s room just as it had been when she died. Tom included. A sort of shrine to the daughter she’d never hug again.
“I think it may be more upsetting to be where he is,” said Isobel. “But he hardly says anything these days so he’s certain not to complain.”
“I think,” said Violet, “that it may be better for him to start over in a new room.”
Cora did not even want to begin thinking about Tom starting over in any sense of the word. He belonged to Sybil and anything else would be quite wrong. “It’s too soon,” Cora said again, this time as a statement rather than a question. “It’s far, far too soon. Besides, he needs to be near the nursery. The bachelor’s hall is miles away from that.” That settled it for Cora, Tom couldn’t move till Sybbie was out of the nursery which would be quite a few years down the road.
“I’m not saying you have to treat him as a complete bachelor,” said Violet. “Just move him out of the women’s hall. Edith is already fighting an uphill battle as it is, she doesn’t need any whispers about her newly widowed brother-in-law.”
Cora closed her eyes and frowned. She wanted to say who would even say such things? But she knew full well who. All of their friends and neighbors in Yorkshire and elsewhere. They thrived on nasty gossip which is why every family almost made a contest of the amount of propriety they showed. Sometimes it all made her sick. “I’m not going to push him out of Sybil’s room. That’s just cruel. He’s still grieving.”
“I know,” said Isobel. “And he will be for a long time. We all will.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact,” said Violet, “that he’s still a handsome young man sleeping near the sole unmarried lady in the family. Despite his good character many will assume that there’s a fox in the henhouse.”
Normally, Cora would have said that Violet and Isobel were right. Before this, she never would have put a man without a wife in that hall. It was just so callous to her that she was supposed to go to Tom and say, all right, your wife is dead, you can’t stay here anymore. Cora took a drink of her tea just to stop herself from crying. Every day was a million reminders that Sybil was gone and not coming back. “I won’t make him give up Sybil’s room, not if he wants to stay there.” Maybe down the road a little, but not while it was all still so fresh.
“Why don’t we ask Tom,” said Isobel. “He’s the only one who could say if staying there is a source of comfort or a reminder of pain.”
Cora sighed. “It seems such a trivial thing to bother him with. I think he’ll tell us if he’s unhappy where he is.” Every time she looked at Tom all she saw was her own grief reflected in his eyes. The two of them had been holding Sybil as she died, begging for her not to go. Cora saw the light leave her daughter’s eyes a hundred times a day. And she knew Tom saw it too. He didn’t need to be bothered by details of the propriety of the hall his bedroom was situated in, he was just trying to make it through the day. Just like Cora was.
“But I don’t think he would,” said Violet. “When you lose the love of your life there is no feeling of this thing makes me unhappy. All things are unhappy. There is no happiness left in the world at all, so it would be impossible for Tom to say if he were unhappy. Because at all times he is the most unhappy he can be.”
Cora swallowed more tea hoping to swallow more of her grief down with it. “How am I even supposed to bring it up to him? He already doesn’t want to stay, this might just be the thing that chases him away. He’ll think we want him out of our lives for good. That we’re chasing him out of Sybil’s room as a prelude to chasing him out of the house.”
“It is a delicate conversation, I agree,” said Violet. “He and I have an understanding about a few things, I think I may be able to bring it up to him.”
Cora knew by understanding, Violet meant all the times she’d mercilessly bullied Tom over his dinner clothes. The poor man never stood a chance against Violet’s iron will. He now dressed for dinner without a word of complaint. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. He’s very fragile right now,” said Cora. “You can be a bit rough on him.”
Violet held up a hand in a gesture of peace. “I promise I will be as gentle as a lamb with dear Tom. I’ll even remember to use his name.”
“Which we all know is such a great effort for you,” said Isobel.
Violet shot her a look before turning back to Cora. “I will not bully him over this, I just intend to ask him if he’d like to be elsewhere in the house. Maybe we can even find a room that’s closer to the nursery. I do hear that he spends quite a lot of time in there.”
“Can you blame him?” said Cora as she set down her teacup. “Sybbie’s all he’s got left in the world.”
“I don’t blame him,” said Violet. “I think he’s been very brave about all of this. But if we are to ever move forward we must be willing to make the changes that are necessary.”
Cora didn’t like the talk of moving forward one bit. How could she move on when her heart had been permanently fixed in time to the moment Sybil took her last breath? Her baby, her youngest daughter, gone at only twenty-four years old. “Excuse me,” Cora said, standing up and leaving the room. She couldn’t swallow back her tears and her grief any more. It had her by the throat and would not let her go.
Standing in the hall, Cora wept silently. Once again, she saw Sybil struggling for air. Writhing in pain. Dying. She heard Tom begging, please don’t leave me. Maybe if she had begged too, Sybil would have found a way to stay. Clutching her handkerchief to her face, she played that horrible night over and over again in her mind. Her baby, gone. Snatched away in the flower of her youth. Leaving behind only Tom and Sybbie. How could anyone talk of moving forward. There was no forward anymore.
Isobel came into the hall. “Cora?” she asked softly.
Cora sniffed and tried to dry her eyes. “You’ll have to give me a moment,” she said as best she could through her tears.
Isobel put a hand on her back. “Moving Tom to a different room isn’t forgetting Sybil. None of us will ever forget her.”
“Don’t you see,” said Cora through more tears, “there’s no moving forward without her. Not for me, not for Tom. She’s gone and taken us with her.”
“But there has to be a forward,” said Isobel. “For Sybbie’s sake if nothing else. She can’t grow up without her father and her grandmother. She needs you now and in every minute of the future.”
This brought a new wave of tears to Cora. Isobel was right. Sybbie couldn’t grow up in the past. It killed Cora that she had to trade one Sybil for another. When they’d buried Sybil, Cora wanted nothing more than to crawl into the grave with her. The pain of it was almost impossible to bear.
Isobel put her arm around Cora’s shoulder and guided her back into the drawing room. “If you think we should wait a little bit longer, then I think we can do that.”
Isobel looked to Violet who quickly said, “Oh, I agree. All things must be done in their proper time.”
“We will have to talk to him eventually,” said Isobel. “But I see no reason why it can’t wait awhile.”
Cora finally got her tears halfway under control. “I just don’t want to hurt him any more than he has been. I don’t want him to think we’re driving him off. Robert is already telling him he should leave, but I don’t want that. Not for Tom and not for Sybbie.” Tom leaving and taking Sybbie with him might just kill Cora. Her only grandchild, Sybil’s only daughter, gone far away somewhere. That also, she couldn’t bear.
Violet managed not to bring the topic up again until after the cricket match. She heard that Tom had agreed to stay on in the house and let Sybbie be raised around her aunts and uncle and grandparents and found Cora the next day after the match. “I think it’s been long enough now. Any longer and people will be talking.”
Cora had to admit that it did seem like the timing might be right. They were hardly going to scare Tom away now that he’d agreed to stay. And he’d been all but ready to move into the land agent’s cottage, so it seemed like Violet was correct. There was still a hole in Cora’s heart where Sybil was supposed to be, and she still grieved her daughter every day. Isobel had been right, too. They all had to think about the future for Sybbie’s sake. “I think I should be the one to talk to him,” said Cora. She knew just where she would find Tom too.
Coming into the nursery, Cora found Tom pacing back and forth with the baby. Sybbie was squirming a little and seemed to be trying to hang on to wakefulness while being lulled to sleep. In just a few months, Sybbie had grown so much already. Cora could tell already that she’d have the same dark looks of her mother. Tom looked up as he heard the door open. Cora put a finger to her lips and stood, watching as Tom cradled Sybbie to sleep.
Every day, from the time Sybil had announced her engagement to Tom in the drawing room a year ago, to the day that Sybil died, Cora had had her doubts about him. She had never been sure of what sort of man he was. She’d been shocked more than once at the way he thought or spoke or behaved. When he’d left Sybil in Ireland it was as if every worst fear of hers had come true. She still tried to be nice to him, for Sybil’s sake. Heaven knew there was plenty of saltiness to go around from Robert alone. And the last thing a pregnant woman needs is even more stress. But she’d been so certain then that Tom wasn’t the good man Sybil thought he was.
But now? Cora had to admit that her position had changed a bit in light of Sybil’s death. She could see how deeply Tom must have loved her just from the way he mourned her. And the way he took care of Sybbie showed her the quality of man he really was. She regretted now all the times that the family might have spent together more happily. She hoped Robert regretted it too. Maybe since he got Tom to play in his silly cricket match and Tom caught the winning ball things would be different between them.
Tom put Sybbie into her cot and Cora came to look on her little granddaughter. “I think she’s grown since yesterday,” Cora whispered.
“I think so,” said Tom. He looked over at Cora. “Were you coming here to see her? Or me?”
“I wanted to have a word with you,” said Cora. They stepped away from the cot and Cora sat down in the chair near the window. She waved for Tom to sit as well.
“What is it?” Tom looked puzzled. Cora began to second guess her decision to even bring up the room. She knew if she didn’t, though, Violet would bring it up at the first opportunity. And there was no need to blindside or embarrass Tom on this.
“I thought,” she started, even though it wasn’t really her idea. She supposed she should take ownership of it. “That since you’ve decided to stay on here at Downton, you might consider picking a different room. One that can really be your own.”
“You want me to switch rooms?” Tom didn’t seem upset by the idea, but Cora wasn’t sure he had absorbed the full meaning of leaving Sybil’s room.
“Well, traditionally the hall where you’re current room is,” Cora almost said where Sybil’s room is, but managed to stop herself, “is known as the ladies hall and all the unmarried women of the household have rooms there.”
Tom seemed to catch her drift. “And as I’m very much not an unmarried girl I really don’t belong there.”
Cora gave him a smile, she hoped he wouldn’t be offended. “We’re not trying to throw you out. I was just wondering if you might want a room in a different part of the house, that’s all. Maybe something a little more private without anyone else coming and going at all hours.” Not that Edith was coming and going all the time, but Cora thought that it sounded better if she were to make Tom feel like he was being done a favor by moving.
“I suppose I’ve rather overstayed my welcome in Sybil’s room.” Tom was never one to sugar coat things. Much to Robert’s chagrin.
“No, don’t say that,” said Cora. “Your place is here for as long as you want it to be, and I hope you want it to be forever.” Cora reached out and took one of Tom’s hands in her own. “And I will keep saying that every day until you believe me.” Cora squeezed Tom’s hand. “It’s just that Downton-”
“-Has traditions,” Tom finished her sentence. “I’m seeing that more and more. The longer I’m here it seems that everything the family does all day is to uphold tradition.”
Cora gave him a sympathetic smile. “I had that exact same thought when I first came here. You’ll get used to it after a while.” While Cora would never compare herself to a working-class Irishman, there were more than a few things they had in common as outsiders who’d come to live in the world of Downton. Cora had been confused and astounded by many of the arcane rules and customs the people of Downton lived by. She still wasn’t completely sure she’d learned them all. Every so often, Violet would surprise her with a new one even all these years later.
“And what if I don’t get used to it, or don’t want to?” Tom turned to look at Sybbie’s cot.
Cora patted the back of Tom’s hand. “Downton has a way of getting into your blood. You’ll be just like all the rest of us before you know it.”
“What a thought,” Tom said sadly.
Cora gave his hand another squeeze. “So, what do you say about the room?” She didn’t mean to push him, she just wanted to get this settled while she still had the will to do it.
Tom nodded. “It makes no difference to me.”
Cora was inwardly relieved that Tom wasn’t having a problem about it. And also a little sad. Once he moved out they’d close up Sybil’s room and it would just stand there, empty. Maybe one day in the future it could be Sybbie’s room. It was the one bright spot in the whole affair. “We have no shortage of rooms here,” said Cora. “Why don’t we take a walk through the halls and you can see which one you like.”
Standing, they both paused to look in on Sybbie who was sleeping soundly, then Tom looked into the adjoining room to let Nanny know they were leaving. Then, Cora and Tom walked through the halls and Cora showed him different rooms she thought he might like. Violet had been full of suggestions the last time they talked about it. Many of the rooms Cora suggested were large and full of big, wooden furniture. Some were large enough to have a small sitting area to one side. With more than fifty bedrooms to choose from, Cora was certain Tom had to like one of them.
“It’s too grand,” said Tom for the fifth time as Cora showed a large and well appointed room with a full canopy bed and velvet carpets. “I’m not a prince or a lord, I wouldn’t know what to do with all that extra space.”
“We don’t want you to feel like we don’t want you around,” said Cora. “You should have one of the nicer rooms that we keep for family.”
“I believe you want me around,” said Tom. The way he said you made it clear that someone – Robert – was still causing him to doubt staying. “But I don’t need a fancy room, I would feel more comfortable in a smaller one, I think.”
“Are you sure?” asked Cora. She really didn’t want him to think they were trying to give him second best.
“I am,” said Tom. “I’m no prince or lord, I won’t be insulted by having a regular room.”
Cora took Tom’s arm. “Well, if you say so. But don’t be shy to tell me if you change your mind.” Leading him down a different hall, she opened a door to a rarely used room. It was small compared to many of the others, but Cora thought it was comfortable. “What about this one? If you want we could turn one of the other closer rooms into a nursery so you wouldn’t have to be so far away from Sybbie.”
Tom stepped into the room and looked around. He went over to the large window and looked out at the view. Cora followed him looking at the walls and ceiling. The wallpaper was antique and the art on the walls probably wasn’t something a young man of the twentieth century would find appealing. Or the eighteenth century for that matter. “We can also redecorate to anything you like.”
Tom looked over from the window. “I like this one,” he said.
Cora smiled. “Then it’s yours.”
“And I’d like to do what you said, about the nursery. I’d like to be close to Sybbie.” Tom came over to where Cora was standing. “Which ones did you have in mind?”
Tom didn’t have much to move from one room to another. Two trips just about accomplished the task, so he didn’t bother asking any of the servants to help him. He didn’t even tell Cora he was doing it beforehand or she would have insisted on getting someone to help, and he really didn’t need it. As he walked around Sybil’s room one last time he tried to make some peace with the ghost he was half sure was there.
He remembered the first time he’d ever entered Sybil’s room. It had been the night of his planned protest against the English general after he’d failed to be conscripted. He’d left a note for Sybil explaining what he’d done and asking for her to forgive him. Of course, Anna had found the note, not Sybil, and that had thwarted his whole plan. Back then, the room seemed unbelievably big for one person. Growing up he’d had to share a room and a bed with all his brothers and both were much smaller than Sybil’s. A room like this would have been the height of luxury back then. It still would be to most people on earth. He wondered if there was something in the air at Downton that acted to dull your senses once you came upstairs. He should still be blown away by how grand and how massive everything was, but it just faded into the background anymore. He didn’t like to think this place was changing him, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do.
Going to the armoire, he opened the doors and looked inside. Sybil’s dresses still hung in there. He wasn’t sure he’d opened the armoire since she’d died. There was a faint waft of Sybil’s favorite gardenia perfume as he ran his hand over her gowns. The scent sent a cascade of grief and memory washing over him. Oh, how he missed her. If it weren’t for Sybbie, he wasn’t sure he could have survived these last months. He still cried himself to sleep almost every night. He longed to touch her and hold her one more time. Mostly he longed to hear her voice. To hear her say that he was doing the right thing.
He closed the armoire again. The time he left the note had been the first time he’d been in this room. The next time was when they’d come for Mary’s wedding. No longer the pining lover, they’d been married. Tom liked to think happily, but Downton always seemed to bring out the worst between them. They’d argued more than once in this room. He hated arguing with her. He wished now that he hadn’t. He didn’t even remember clearly what they’d fought about, just that they had. He remembered when they’d come for Mary’s wedding he’d been so afraid that Sybil would remember her old life and realize how unhappy she was with him. That she’d want to change him, or leave him.
And now she had left him. And somehow he was supposed to be part of her family now without her. The family that never wanted him in the first place. What a funny turn of events. Opening the dresser drawers he looked to see what might still be there. Half of the drawers were still filled with Sybil’s things too. Stockings and underwear and handkerchiefs and brassieres in silk and finest linen. The dainty things that made a man’s house into a woman’s home. These too, carried the faint scent of gardenias. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to think of anyone other than Sybil when he smelled it for the rest of his life.
Closing up the dresser, he went and sat at Sybil’s vanity one last time. Everything was still as she’d left it the night she’d died. He’d asked the maids not to tidy it. The brush still had strands of her hair in the bristles and her favorite earrings were laying on top where she’d taken them off before bed. There was some powder and the makeup that she thought he didn’t know she wore, along with the pair of gloves she’d worn the last time she dressed up for dinner. He didn’t know what would happen to all of this once he vacated the room. He supposed it would probably be tidied up and put away. Some of it certainly going to charity. Other bits maybe just going into the trash. He knew he should probably put aside some little trinkets for Sybbie when she was older, but he didn’t even know where to start. Maybe Mary or Edith might help him on that front.
He opened the drawer and glanced inside. There, laying on top of some forgotten hairpins and old ribbons were the pamphlets on women’s rights he’d given her so many years ago now. He picked up the one laying on top and looked inside. Sybil had taken a pencil and underlined various sections. Even now, all these years later, it warmed him to know that she’d read them. Flipping though the pages he noted which passages she marked out as important. In some places, she’d even written her own thoughts in the margins. In one place in particular the pamphlet said men have full political control of society, next to which Sybil had written in large letters, BOO! Tom laughed when he saw it. It was almost like having one last conversation with her.
Turning the pamphlet over he noticed on the back a small heart with the words Tom Branson & Sybil Crawley scrawled inside. His heart leapt when he saw it, it was like Sybil saying she loved him for the first time all over again. He felt a surge of tears threaten to take him, but he didn’t give in to them. He wanted his moments saying goodbye to not be choked by tears. He’d be crying enough later anyway.
Picking up the other pamphlets he stood from the vanity. Looking around the room he didn’t see anything else he needed to check before leaving. He looked around the room again, this time not looking for anything that was already there. “Sybil,” he said softly into the quiet, semi-dark room. “I don’t know if you’re there. I hope wherever you are is nice. I’m doing my best for Sybbie, and I hope you approve. I’m sorry for all that I put you through. I hope you know that. I’ll do better for our daughter, I promise.”
Tom paused and took a deep breath. The tears were still crowding around the edges of his voice. “I hope you know I miss you every day. And that I’ll think of you always. I promise to tell Sybbie all about you and what a good mother you would have been. If you’re still in this room, know that I’m not leaving to forget you. And I hope wherever you are you won’t forget me neither. I have to go now, but I won’t be too far away. If you ever want to say anything, know I’m always listening.”
With that, Tom closed his eyes and listened. The room was quiet for some long minutes and the only sound Tom heard was the beating of his own heart. Opening his eyes, Tom took one final look around the room. It was time for him to go. Taking his framed photo of Sybil off the bedside table he left the room and shut the door behind him.