Sybil Crawley

Sybil has never been more grateful for a few days off from work with all of the snow that has tumbled down on Darrow over the past few hours. It is relentless, rather like the snow that had trapped them in Kagura, except this time at least Henri and she are in their own home.

"Do you think we have enough formula," she asks Henri, looking in the cupboards. Their refrigerator is full, as are their cupboards. There is bottled water in case they have need of it, and the medical kit that Kaine had gifted to her that she has kept well-stocked even with his departure. There is also wine simmering on the stove, the beautiful bouquet of cloves and cinnamon filling the room. "I think we must, if it only lasts a few days."

She turns to look at her husband, holding a sleeping Sybbie in his arms. There is something about seeing the two of them together that warms her heart. This is her child and her husband and they are a family now though not the one either of them had expected. "We should put her down before she wakes again."

With her wedding less than a month away Sybil feels as if it has taken over every moment of her life. The day before the nurses she worked with had thrown her a shower, gifting her with both outrageous lingerie that she was horrified to even look at as well as the much more practical gift of dinnerware. It was an unexpected event and even with the strange underthings, it has made her look forward to this afternoon a great deal.

It was going to be a casual afternoon, or so she hoped. They had booked her favourite café, organised food and champagne and tea. There had been mention of games but Sybil isn't entirely sure what those entail, only that there seemed to be an inordinate amount of toilet paper stacked at one end of the room.

She knows from the many weddings that she's attended that she might not have much time to spend with her friends on the actual day. That's what today is for, to sit and talk and enjoy.

The days are starting to feel cooler in the afternoons, and it's weather that Sybil enjoys. The heat of the summer had felt harsh to her, harsher than the one before. She's determined to enjoy it, spending the late afternoon in the park with a book. A blanket laid out by the duck pond, she has some crackers to nibble on as she relaxes in the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze that works its way through the trees.

What she hadn't considered was the determination of the ducks. Scenting something akin to bread, they'd descended upon her, waddling over in droves until she's forced to flee. Sybil throws the remains of the crackers at them, shouting at them to go away. It's embarrassing to say the least, and she only hopes that no one has seen her.

Another long day has passed by them, and Sybil is finding it harder to play along with her family. Though she and Henri had spoken at the hospital and mended much of what lay between them, things were still strained. They had not been able to say proper farewells, not with the other nurses and Doctors about, and as such she felt lonely and unsure.

Dinner had been difficult, Sybil doing her best to avoid Mary's glances and to have polite conversation. She could not help but look at it through Henri's eyes, and the extravagance of all that they had in Downton ate at her. When dinner finishes she stays only as long as she must, pleading tiredness in order to go to bed early. She can hear her Grandmama say that the hospital is working her too hard, but Sybil cannot stay to disabuse her of the notion, taking solace instead in the silence of her room.

Too much silence, she thinks hours later as she lies awake in bed. The sounds of a modern city have become the thing she is accustomed to. But it is not truly the quiet that keeps her up, but the thoughts she cannot escape. How will she manage here in this place that was once her home and now feels so strange? How will she find a way to make Henri understand as well?

Even the worst worries can only keep her awake so long, succumbing eventually to sleep. It only feels a few brief moments later when she's woken by the buzzing of her alarm, reaching out to find it and knocking glasses off her bedside table.

Henri's glasses. Her alarm clock.

Abruptly awake, she sits, seeing her own bedroom in Darrow and not the one she had fallen asleep in. Better, she thinks, is Henri beside her, rousing at the sound himself. Sybil gives him no time, pulling him into an embrace, kissing him fiercely.

They are home.

"I saw you, you know."

"Mary!" Sybil jumps when her sister glides into the room, dropping the comb she's just pulled from her hair. It's an excuse to not meet her eyes, to crouch and try and find the piece on the floor of her room. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was out in the hall and I saw-"

"Oh, please, Sybil, I could see you all dinner. You were watching that French Doctor just as Edith was," Mary settles on the edge of Sybil's bed, stretching an arm to tug off a glove. "At least, you seemed far less hungry than Edith. Only there's one thing that doesn't make any sense. How could you have met the young Doctor if you were at home ill?"

"Please, Mary, you musn't say anything." There's no stopping her sister once she's settled on an idea, and Mary, for all of her idleness at times is as smart as any of them. Sybil stands, brushing her skirts and setting the comb on her dressing table. It's a scant few seconds to come up with a story, but she does, barely. "It was when I was training. At the hospital, he was studying there as well. Only- I never imagined that I'd see him again."

Mary claps her hands, one still gloved, gleeing at the bit of information. "Won't that annoy Edith. But you must realise, Papa would never allow you to marry a commoner, even if he is a Doctor, never mind a Frenchman."

It's too much, and she's been in Darrow too long. Sybil snaps at her sister, patience for the games and ways low, especially considering their dinner. "But it would be fine for you to marry a lawyer, as long as it keeps the family safe?"

It's a cruel thing to say, considering how things have turned between Mary and Matthew, but Sybil doesn't care. "I will marry whomever I like. Father cannot stop me in that, unless he what, lock me in my room until I'm thirty?"

Sybil's expected to have shocked her sister, and she has, in a way. Mary in turn shocks her, laughing and stepping up from the bed to take Sybil's hand. "Here I had thought you the one of us who would make a proper marriage and satisfy our parents. But you're as stubborn as the rest of us, aren't you. Alright." Mary picks up her gloves, turning to leave. "I'll keep your little secret, but on one condition. I want to be there when you tell Edith. Now, don't 'Mary' me. I'm allowed my little pleasures."

Her words die on her tongue as Mary lets herself out the room, closing the door behind her. Sybil sags, gripping the dressing table. What has she done?

Sybil is slow to wake in the morning. She's entirely too content to be in bed with the man she adores more than she can say, even if they fell asleep scandalously nude. The night had been a long one, filled with touches and kisses and sweet words of amazement whispered between them. Sybil had been shy after they had finished, but that shyness had faded, replaced with a curiosity and happiness she's never imagined.

The room is dark, and the bed is soft, softer than she remembers. She's sore as well, as she knew that she would be, in places that soreness is unfamiliar. "My love," she whispers to Henri, kissing him awake before reaching to turn on the lamp near her bed. Her hand touches glass instead, and she pauses, touching an all too familiar shape, pulling the lid off a container to the unmistakeable scent of biscuits. Biscuits she's not tasted in years. Sybil freezes, whispering Henri's name desperately when she hears a familiar voice at the door that fills her both with panic and joy unimaginable.

"Sybil, you know you have to come down for breakfast. Working late at the hospital is no excuse. Shall I send Anna to help you dress or are you going straight back to the hospital?" It's Edith at her door and she wants nothing more than to fly through the door and embrace her sister were she not nude and in the bed with a man.

"Of course," she calls out, meeting Henri's panicked eyes. "To the hospital, I'm afraid. Please apologise to Carson for me, I shall be right down."

Her days at the hospital have been long since the faceless victims started arriving. With no idea what is causing it or how they can even breathe, it's been important to watch and record every moment of their time at the hospital. A task that has fallen to Sybil as a nurse's aide and even the other late term nursing students, in an attempt to relieve the burden on the nurses and doctors.

Still, she's not home much after dinner tonight, exhausted though she may be. Sybil had called Henri on a quick break, asking him to meet her at her apartment and to bring dinner if he might. All she wishes to do is to see him and curl up in his arms and hear that all will be well, even if it truly will not.

The best way to celebrate any holiday is to share it with people that one care's about, Sybil is sure of that. It's why she's organised this, a luncheon for any and all that she's friends with. It's not something she's done before, and it feels very adult to be hosting a party within her own home. It's not something she ever imagined doing in such a small space, or without a staff to support her, or even before she was married with her own home, but those aren't things that are considerations here.

Instead she's let everyone know when to come and to bring something to share with the others. She's ordered in the main part of the meal, a roasted turkey instead of a goose and a roast of lamb as well. There's champagne and wine, and she has the record player Kaine gave her in the corner playing christmas carols by Bing Crosby. There's a small tree of real pine with strings of beads strung through its boughs and little elecric lights twinkling. Henri has helped her to decorate and do the cooking that she's tried, even if most of the cookies she made needed to be thrown our they were so burnt.

Once people start to arrive she relaxes, allowing herself a glass of wine once she's sure everything is in order and things are going well. At some point there is nothing else she can do, other than talk to her guests; her friends. It's nothing like a Christmas at Downton, but her second one here in Darrow and it feels like the Christmas it's supposed to be.

Not every night can be spent at restaurants or the theatre, especially when Sybil understands the frustrations of living on a budget now. This doesn't mean she wants to spend any less time with Henri, so she plans a night in, after consulting with Katie and a few of the girls at work as to just what she should do. They spoke of plans and ideas, and there was some giggling on the part of the other girls when Sybil mentioned her concerns with being alone in her home with a suitor. Eventually she was won over to the idea, trusting both in Henri's honour and the knowledge that this wouldn't cause a scandal here in Darrow.

Now she has everything ready; wine and beer in the refrigerator, a few movies that were suggested and an electric popcorn machine she hopes she can master. The only thing missing is her date himself. She pours herself a glass of the crisp white, breathing in the fruitiness of it before taking a sip and settling in with a book to wait.

Sybil was serious about her offer to show Henri about the city should he wish, and the hospital and college in particular. There's a cafe at the college she's suggested they meet at, a place where the tea is finally acceptable after a year of her patronage. It's a beautiful day, there's a crispness in the air that can only herald the onset of autumn. She loves this weather, it's her favourite time of year, and something she's very glad still happens here in Darrow.

She has a table outside, a pot of tea sitting half-empty in front of her. The sun is warm enough that she's slung her cardigan over the back of her chair in a manner she considers rather haphazard even still. Her notes for pharmacology lay in front of her, mostly untouched. It's too nice a day to study and she's rather looking forward to the company she's been promised.