✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 25

SYBIL POV

The soft clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversation filled the Downton Abbey dining room as I sat down to breakfast. The morning sun filtered through the grand windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the table. Despite the peaceful setting, my stomach churned with unease, a sense of impending dread hanging over me.

Carson approached silently, his steps as careful as always. In his hand, he held a small, pale telegram. His face betrayed nothing, but the sight of it sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed, feeling my appetite vanish. "For you, milady," he said, bowing slightly as he placed the telegram beside my plate.

I stared at the telegram for a moment, unwilling to open it. The knot in my stomach tightened, and the clattering of dishes around me seemed to fade into a dull hum. With trembling fingers, I finally broke the seal and unfolded the thin paper. My eyes scanned the words quickly, but the message struck me like a blow to the chest.

Tom Belasis has been killed.

The room seemed to close in on me, the noise of breakfast and the gentle chatter of the family becoming muffled. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my emotions in check, but the overwhelming sadness rose like a wave, threatening to spill over. I pushed back my chair abruptly, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh screech.

"Milady?" Carson's voice was distant, concerned.

Without answering, I hurried from the table, my pulse racing and my heart heavy. I could hardly see through the tears welling in my eyes. I hadn't made it far before I collided with Mrs. Crawley in the hallway. She gasped slightly, startled by my sudden appearance.

"Oh, dear, what's the matter? Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice calm but filled with concern.

I crossed my arms tightly in front of me, the weight of the news pressing down like a physical burden. "Tom Belasis has been killed," I said, my voice shaking as I looked at the floor. "I remember him at Imogen's ball... he made me laugh out loud right in the middle of her uncle's speech. Now he's gone. It feels as if all the men I ever danced with are dead."

I wiped my eyes, the sorrow giving way to frustration. "I just feel so useless," I continued, my voice rising with anger. "Wasting my life here while they sacrifice theirs. I want to do something, to make a difference."

Mrs. Crawley's face softened with understanding, and she shook her head gently. "You've been a tremendous help with the concert, Sybil."

But I wasn't comforted. "No, not that-selling programs, finding prizes for the Tombola? It's not enough! I want to do real work. Something that matters." My words came out forcefully now, the anger overtaking my grief. "I want to be useful for the first time in my life."

Mrs. Crawley seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, if you're serious, what about becoming an auxiliary nurse?" she suggested, her tone firm but encouraging. "There's a training college in York. I know I could get you onto a course, but it won't be easy, Sybil. It may be something of a rough awakening. Are you ready for that?"

Her eyes searched mine, and I could see the challenge in them, but also the belief that I could rise to it. "Have you ever made your own bed, for example? Or scrubbed a floor?"

Before I could answer, I noticed her gaze shift to something over my shoulder. Turning, I saw O'Brien standing stiffly, her usual look of quiet disdain painted across her face.

"O'Brien, what is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. My patience with her had grown thin over the years.

"Mr. Platte is taking Her Ladyship and Lady Grantham down to the village," O'Brien replied, her tone as clipped as ever. "She wondered if you'd like to go with them."