Home Plot - one shot
Jun. 23rd, 2014 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adifferentlife"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?
"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?
