Sybbie of the Abbey: a fan fiction of Downton Abbey

Margaret Branson

Tom walked into his childhood home. His mother, Margaret Branson, had never moved away from the house he had been born in, even when his father had left her nearly penniless. Tom and Kieran had managed to support her.

He set down his travelling bag next to Kieran's and glanced about him; noting the familiar surroundings. It was a small house, but cosy, and comfortably furnished with several rooms; which was more than most people had in Ireland.

The maid, who must've doubled as a nurse, showed Kieran through a door on the right, and hurried away; wiping her eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he heard his mother's joyous exclamation.

"Kieran! Kieran darlin'! I didn't know y' would be comin' t'day! I've missed y' whiole you were in that Godforsaken county!"

"There's someone else here t' see y' Mam."

There was a silence for a moment, and Tom began to walk hesitantly towards the door. He heard his mother's whisper.

"It can't be... is it?... no... but I don't dare hope."

He pushed through the half-open door, standing awkwardly with his hat in his hands; feeling like the prodigal son.

His mother was lying in bed; propped up with some pillows, and his brother stood near her.

For a moment her pale face turned still more ashen, then she beamed.

"It is!" She cried, holding out a shaking hand to him, "it's Tom! Oh Tommy, I missed y' so! I know I didn't want y' t' endanger yerself, buut I always hoped that somehow... oh Tom!"

He knelt beside her bed; tears beginning to flow from his eyes. As he took her hand, she leaned forwards and hugged him. He felt how thin she was, and noted that her hair had turned white before it's time. His heart broke for her.

"Oh Mam, I'm sorry I didn't write as much!"

She ignored his remark. Pushing herself into a full sitting position, she took his face is her wrinkled hands.

"You've hardly changed a bit!"

All of a sudden, she seemed to get a hold of her emotions. The first overwhelmingly sense of joy was dampened by worry.

"But Tom," she said, pulling back, "y' shouldn't have come. What if yer arrested? Who knows how long they'll hold y'? I know I called y' a fool fer marryin' that Crawley; buut she was a good lass, an I know y' loove her family. They're yer family now. What if yer separated from them? An' yer new wife juust had that babby too! I got yer letter about that!"

He caressed her emaciated hand, roughened with the toil of many hard years.

"Mam, you're my family too. I- I couldn't stay away and not tell you..."

He didn't finish, but she knew what he was going to say.

"Y' wanted to say goodbye an' see me off."

Her green-tinged, blue eyes filled with tears. She reached out and took Kieran's hand as well.

"I'm glad y' came. I won't deny that. You two can have yer own rooms, no one else is here, except that silly Mave. Now, leave me be t' get some rest... I believe that fool who calls himself a doctor'll be here soon."

She sank back on her pillows, smiling at them. Both her sons kissed her cheek and retreated towards the door.

They went to their rooms and unpacked. Tom was looking in on his mother, finding her asleep, when there was a knock at the door. The nursemaid, Mave, opened it and a tall man stepped through.

He had grey hair and a matching moustache, but seemed fit and tough. He flashed Tom a broad, white smile as he set down his bag.

"Hello," he said taking his hand in a firm grip, "I'm Doctor O'Riley. Who might you be?"

"I'm her nephew, Tom Branson."

The doctor gave him a knowing smile.

"You know, I could have sworn that she had a son named Tom who had been banished." He winked. "Don't worry, I won't tell on you."

"Well," Branson said with a chuckle, "I suppose you've caught me."

His voice became grave.

"In all seriousness, how bad is my mother? Is it really hopeless? She didn't seem so bad when I was talking to her before; not bad enough that she might not be cured."

O'Riley sighed.

"Mave must've given her medicine right before you arrived and the excitement of seeing her sons most likely bolstered her spirits. I'm sorry, but she can't survive this. I've been trying to make her comfortable. She may last as long as a few weeks, but I'm afraid the end is inevitable."

Tom nodded, looking at his boots.

"I'll tel my brother Kieran while you see to my mother."

He was about to go into his brother's room, when a thought seized him and he turned once more.

"Oh, by the way, I'll pay the bill for my mother."

The doctor smiled.

"There's no need for that. I believe you've been paying for that already, without your knowledge, through your letters and bills."

With that, he went to take care of his patient.

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The next week, the sons helped to care for their mother. They kept her company; as well as take care of any necessities for the house and its inhabitants when Mave was otherwise occupied. Tom was kept busy between his duties towards his mother, and writing long letters to the Abbey.

Since there wasn't a telephone in the house, he couldn't get in touch with his family with as much ease as he would have if in England, and he began to think of them more and more. He wrote to his family every day; sometimes separate letters for almost all of them. They wrote just as often.

Even Sybbie would send him letters in her neat, childlike handwriting; detailing her life and her growing friendship with the maid, Kate. The letters from his daughter always expressed a wish to have him home again.

He never allowed his mother to see him pining, however. He did not want her to regret his being there, for he certainly did not, even if he longed for Sibbie, Matthew, Lucy and the others at Downton. He could now see the fatalistic signs of his mother's fading, and knew intuitively, that she did not have long on this earth.

About a week and a day after he had left his home, an unexpected visitor arrived on the doorstep of the house.

Mave being away on an errand, Tom opened it himself.

The door revealed a scruffy, brown-haired man, with muddy grey eyes; leaning nonchalantly against the post which held up the eves.

He gave his receiver a small smile.

"Hello, Tommy."

Tom's blood ran cold and he stood frozen in shock.

The man's smile widened.

"Didn't expect t' see me again did ye? What? No warm reception? After all, ye are me son."

Tom was utterly dumbstruck. After all these years, and at such a time, his father had decided to return.