Downton Abbey 1. Chapter 1

_So here's my contribution to EAST Alliance Day! It's a modern AU that was inspired by a picture I saw on tumblr of both Laura Carmichael and Jessica Brown-Findlay laughing together, and the idea just struck me: "what if Sybil tried to play matchmaker between her favorite uni professor and her sister?" Thanks to the loving and friendly E/A community, it didn't take me long to realize that E/A was my #2 OTP after S/T :o) I blame **queenlovett** for that entirely ;o) So while this fic has a healthy dose of my #1 OTP, it is also an opportunity for me to really explore the E/A ship, and I hope you will enjoy this! Dedicated to E/A and S/T shippers EVERYWHERE!_

_Oh, and as you can see, this is multi-chapter (because I can't help myself!) so more will be coming! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy what's posted right now, and as always, please share with me your thoughts! THANKS FOR READING!_

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**My Sister, the Matchmaker  
**_**by The Yankee Countess**_

_An EAST Alliance Fic_

_Chapter One_

Edith Crawley wearily sighed as she exited the restaurant, glancing over her shoulder at the door, momentarily hesitating to see what would happen next. Would he come rushing out after her, offering up an apology? An explanation? An excuse, even? But no, nothing like that happened. Typical.

Well, with dinner officially ruined (as well as her appetite), there was no other option really, other than to hail a cab and go back home. There were no cabs on the street, however, and overhead the sky was beginning to rumble with the threat of another storm. With a resolute sigh, she began walking down the street, hoping to find a cab around the next corner. In the meantime, she dug her mobile out of her purse and proceeded to make yet another pathetic phone call on a long list of pathetic phone calls.

"Sybil? Sybil, are you there?" the phone had gone straight to voicemail.

Edith frowned and glanced at her watch; it wasn't even nine o'clock yet! Sybil didn't like to stay up till the wee hours, but even this was a tad early for her baby sister.

"Look, I don't know when you'll get this, but I'm coming home," she explained. "Dinner was a…well, to put it plainly, it was a disaster. And I'll explain more later, just…I don't know, just…I'm coming home, that's all. See you soon."

_Pathetic_, she thought as she returned the phone to her purse; _absolutely pathetic_. She had little doubt that if she opened a dictionary to look up the meaning of the word, she would find a picture of herself. And why not? Because it was absolutely true! Here she was, twenty-eight years old, and her life was at a complete standstill. Her elder and younger sisters had their lives completely under control; they understood their purposes, they were in careers they loved, they were in healthy relationships! And what did she have? Nothing. She didn't even have a place of her own. Indeed…absolutely pathetic.

The sky rumbled again and she swore she felt a few drops fall. It was then that Edith realized she had left her jacket back at the restaurant. It was a warm late summer day, and she had only brought the jacket in case the rain returned from this afternoon. And now the few drops were beginning to become a few more…and a few more.

"Oh bollocks," she groaned, debating if she should turn around and go back for her jacket, or simply continue in the other direction, hoping to find a cab and avoid the mad soap opera she had managed to escape from. In the end it didn't matter what she was thinking about doing, because her thoughts were interrupted by the mugger who zipped past her at lightning speed, grabbing her purse and shoving her so hard that with a startled yelp, she stumbled backwards, landing hard on her rump, while the thief took off down the street, her purse in his hands.

"STOP!" she shouted, struggling to get up, but tumbling back down because her left shoe heel was broken. "STOP!" she shouted again, pulling her shoes off and finally managing to get to her feet.

But by that point, the mugger was out of sight.

And she was standing, all alone, with no purse, no money, no mobile, and still no jacket…which would have come in very handy just then, as now of all times, the clouds opened up and decided to pour its contents down upon the earth, but especially it seemed, upon her.

_When it rains, it pours. _Never had she thought that phrase could be taken so literally.

What a night. Her date had turned into an absolute nightmare, her dinner had been ruined, she had lost her jacket, her purse and everything in it had been stolen, her shoes were ruined, and to top it all off, she was getting drenched and had absolutely no way of paying for a cab to take her home.

Without a doubt, this was the worst night of her life.

Or perhaps, _one_ of the worst. She groaned at the thought; one of the worst out of many.

The rain was cold but her tears were the opposite. She hadn't meant to cry, in truth she hated crying, it was very "defeatist", as her grandmother would say. But after everything she had just endured this evening, on top of everything she had been enduring over the past year, the stresses and frustrations just became too great and she found herself sinking down onto the curb, her palms covering her eyes as she wept hot, angry tears at the so-called life she was living.

A car could drive by right now and splash her for all she cared, it wouldn't make a difference. She hated feeling sorry for herself, but at the same time, she couldn't stop thinking about how horrible her life had become.

Twenty-eight years old. No job, no home, no sense of direction. She was relying on the charity of her little sister, and while Sybil would never do or say anything to make her feel guilty or ashamed of that fact, Edith knew she didn't have to, because she could make herself feel all those things for how pathetic everything in her life was. And then to top it all off, she kept having her heart broken over and over by lying bastards! She wasn't a perfect person, she knew that, she had made many mistakes in her life…but…but did she really have to be so unlucky?

The sudden splash of cold, dirty water striking her caused her to gasp with shock.

Typical; just typical.

"STOP THE CAR!" shouted a voice. Edith didn't pay any attention to it, she was attempting to shake water from her body, not that it made much difference since she was already soaked to the bone from the rain above. She didn't realize that the car (a cab, ironically), had come to a halt just a few feet away from her, and the passenger had scrambled outside, telling the driver to wait, while he rushed over to where she was sitting.

"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"

Edith groaned and pushed the damp fringe away from her brow. It was difficult to see the man standing in front of her, due to her blurred vision caused by both her tears, and the hard rain that poured around them. But she could make out that he was a somewhat older man, late forties, early fifties, blonde hair with wisps of gray, and he wore a long, beige trench coat and held a lopsided black umbrella.

"I'm so, so sorry!" he apologized. "We didn't see you, and…here, let me help you," he insisted, stepping forward and offering her a helping hand.

Yet despite the offer, Edith didn't take it, but rather scrambled to her feet on her own, trembling and hugging her arms around herself. "Thank you," she muttered, even though she hadn't accepted his help. She reached down and picked up her broken shoes, cursing as she noticed a distinct run in her stockings. Had that happened during the mugging? Or afterwards, when the cab splashed her?

"Miss…" the gentlemen stepped forward, bringing his umbrella with him and positioning it over her head to keep the rain from soaking her, not that it really mattered at this point. Still, she sighed and lifted her face and forced what she hoped looked like a smile of gratitude, when in truth she just wanted to be left alone to wallow and drown in her personal puddle of misery. "Miss…" he murmured again. "I…forgive me, I…I know I'm a complete stranger to you, but…but may I offer you a lift?" he gestured towards the cab just behind him.

Edith wiped her cheeks and eyes and looked up at the gentleman, her vision a bit clearer than before. He had a kind face, and the street lamp overhead allowed her to see the color of his eyes, which were a striking shade of blue. She was right about his age, but just because he was older didn't detract that fact that he was handsome. And he looked so…concerned, just now. Concerned and rather desperate to make sure she was all right.

"I um…" she glanced over at the cab behind him. _Didn't Mama always warn us about accepting offers from strange men? _Not that this man looked like a creeper, but then again she would never have thought her date this evening was capable of—

"Look," he interrupted her thoughts. "I understand your caution, and that is wise. Therefore I will give you my cab, and wait for another."

Edith's eyes widened at the gesture. "Oh! Oh, oh no, no, I couldn't—"

"It's quite alright, I assure you," he interrupted with a smile. A kind smile. A kind smile to go with his kind face.

Despite the cold damp that was seeping through her skin, a strange warmth settled over her heart by the simple look. His eyes continued to hold concern for her, but she also saw a need in them, or rather, a yearning to help her in some way, shape, or form.

"But…but…" she shook her head. "No, I…I couldn't, because I have no money—"

"Oh, do not worry my dear, I will pay for it!" he assured, still smiling…and then blushing somewhat for the little endearment he had just called her. It was just the sort of endearment an older person would bestow upon someone younger, yet it did cause Edith to blush as well, and that warmth to begin spreading. _I'm just not used to encountering kindness from strangers, especially strange men,_ she simply told herself.

She shook her head. "No, sir, that is very kind, but I couldn't possibly—"

"Miss…I'm sorry, I know I keep interrupting," he apologized, looking down at his feet somewhat sheepishly. "But…forgive me for presuming anything, but…seeing you sitting there on that curb, with no coat, no umbrella, and…and now learning that you have no money, I can only assume that…whatever happened to you this evening has not been good."

She couldn't help but laugh at that; a classic British understatement, but very, very true.

He seemed to smile then, a look of relief washing over his features at the sound of her laugh. "Please," he implored. "Let me do this for you? To try and…correct at least one wrong this evening? After all, it was my cab that splashed you, so really, I owe this to you."

He didn't owe her anything, it wasn't as if he was the one driving the cab, and it was her own fault for sitting on that curb in the first place. But the look in his eyes, the genuine wish to help her, to try and make things better for her, even in something as simple as paying for her lift…

Chivalrous. That was the only word she could think to describe this stranger. _And they say chivalry is dead…_

No, it was very much alive, she just hadn't been lucky at finding it, until now.

"Alright," she sighed, blushing and looking down at her feet, her arms still hugging her body. She lifted them then, her eyes meeting his, and for the first time all evening, she felt she had something to smile about. "Thank you."

He smiled back, his grin widening to show his teeth, and held the umbrella a little higher as she made her way from the curb to the cab. She climbed in and watched as he paid the driver a very handsome fee, far more than was necessary for where she was going, but he held up a hand to reassure her it was alright before she could utter a protest.

"Well," he turned and smiled at her after finalizing everything with the driver. "I hope that your evening from this point forward is much better than it has been."

_It already is,_ she wanted to say. But instead, she blushed and smiled and thanked him again, and watched as he stepped away from the cab, holding his hand up as if waving goodbye…and kept her eyes focused on him just a little longer as the cab pulled away.

She only realized once she could no longer see her chivalrous stranger, that she had never asked or learned his name.

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**_Coming next..._**

_Some insight to Sybil and Edith's situation, Sybil contemplates her own love life, and a "surprise" that Edith discovers when she makes it home..._


	2. Chapter 2

_WHOO HOO! Thanks so much for the strong response to this story! And a special welcome to E/A shippers who may have never read my work before! I'm glad to hear that so many of you feel I (so far) have done justice to your ship :o) I hope you I continue to do that, and *maybe* show you the beauty of my own OTP as well ;o) Hooray! Ship exchange! :oP _

_Anyway, just a quick note here for this chapter. This story is also a bit of a "love letter" to one of my favorite cities in the UK: Oxford. I have visited Oxford twice and I do think that if I were given the option to live anywhere in Britain, it would be there. So there will be a great many Oxford references in this story overall, and I will try to highlight specific places that I know/visited on my trips there. That being said, I confess I know virtually NOTHING about how the higher education system in Britain works, so I'm going with what I do know as an ignorant yank :oP therefore, if it sounds odd, how Sybil is approaching her academic career (4 years undergrad, current grad student finishing up her masters, preparing to go into a doctorate program to get her Ph.D) well...just chalk it up to how she would do that if she were in the States. Anyway, I hope that if I am wrong, it's not too distracting! ANYHOO, for my Sybil/Tom shippers out there, you will get some S/T goodiness in this chapter, but I hope whether you're a lover of E/A or S/T or just DA in general, you'll read each chapter, no matter who is featured (I'll try to have lots of cross-over moments as the story progresses). Anyway, THANK YOU AGAIN for reading and please continue to share your thoughts!_

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_Chapter Two_

_Earlier that evening…_

"Peach or green?"

Sybil was sitting on the couch in her flat, laptop open, reading glasses on, several novels lying nearby with post-it notes poking out between pages, her attention completely on the work before her and not the woman hovering nearby.

"Sybil!"

The youngest Crawley sister's head popped up. "What?"

Edith groaned but suppressed the eye roll. "Peach…" she held up one dress. "…Or green?" she held up another.

Sybil looked back and forth, biting her lip for the longest time, before pointing at the dress in Edith's left hand. "Peach."

Edith frowned. "Are you sure? I mean, I know it's the color I often wear, but…but I was thinking maybe green would be better…"

"Fine," Sybil said, her attention returning the work in front of her. "Then wear the green."

Edith made a face. "But peach really is my 'signature color', as Granny is always saying."

"Edith…" Sybil glanced up over the rim of her glasses, fixing her sister with a look that was clearly on the borderline of annoyance.

"Oh alright, excuse me for bothering you,_ 'Professor Crawley'_," she said with a bit of a tongue poke. She laughed and quickly retreated back to her tiny bedroom before Sybil could proceed with throwing one of her books at her head. "You don't know when to quit, do you?" Edith called out from her room as she proceeded to change. "Friday night in a university city, and yet here you are, hard at work."

"I'm teaching on Monday," Sybil explained from her couch. "Dr. Strallan will be observing me, and it's very important that I impress him, because his recommendation may be the key to getting Dr. Hughes' approval for the doctorate program!"

Edith couldn't help but smile as she listened to her sister. Sybil was the baby of the family, yet it could be argued that she was the most mature of the three Crawley sisters. Certainly during their childhoods, Sybil was not only peacekeeper but negotiator between the two older girls. Things were better now between her and Mary, yet Edith always believed that Sybil was the glue that kept them together, or at the very least repaired them, whenever an argument arose.

She admired her little sister; admired her passion and determination. Some called Sybil "the rebel" of the family, and she wore the title like a badge of honor. She had a thirst for knowledge in subjects like history, literature, and politics. While some girls read fashion magazines and spent hours shopping at fancy boutiques, Sybil would scour newspapers and online articles about labor unions, and volunteer at a shelter for battered women. It soon became quite obvious (much to their father and grandmother's horror) that they had a Liberal in the family, and it was not a phase Sybil was going to grow out of. Sybil's love for feminism and progressive politics soon merged with her love for literature (she was always a voracious reader) and Edith remembered the day Sybil announced to the family the Christmas before she was whisked away to Oxford, that she was going to study literature and feminism, and become a professor in both subjects.

And here she was: almost seven years later, her baby sister, on the verge of finishing her Masters, and preparing to launch right into her doctorate, that is, of course, if she could get accepted by the notorious Dr. Elsie Hughes.

"You'll be the first, you know!" Edith called out from the bedroom, checking her reflection in the mirror, nodding her head in approval for deciding to go with Sybil's first choice and wear the peach.

"First?" Sybil replied.

"First doctor," Edith explained. "Dr. Sybil Crawley."

"Ph.D," Sybil clarified.

"M.D., Ph.D, you'll still be the first!" Edith examined her reflection one more time, wondering if she needed to do something with her hair. It wasn't as long as Sybil's, so there were only so many styles she could do. In the end, she decided to pull it back and used a simple clip to hold it in a bun. She then applied a little bit of eyeliner and a touch of pale pink lip gloss, and examined her reflection one more time, before nodding her head in satisfaction.

"You look lovely," she heard her sister murmur from the doorway. Sybil had risen and was smiling at her, her arms folded across her chest, reading glasses still on, adorned in gray flannel sweatpants and an Irish rugby shirt that was clearly two sizes too big for her sister's smaller frame.

"Will Tom be coming back tonight?" Edith asked, her eyes momentarily lingering on Sybil's shirt.

"Tomorrow," Sybil explained. "Early too, from what he told me. He plans on leaving London at seven. I thought that we could all go out and have breakfast when he gets back; and you can give us an 'assessment' of the evening…" she paused and a wicked smile began to spread across her face. "That is, of course, if you're not having a 'sleepover' at—"

"SYBIL!" Edith gasped, blushing furiously while her sister threw her head back and laughed.

"What?" Sybil giggled, waggling her eyebrows mischievously. "Tom and I did on our first date—"

"I really don't want to hear about your sex life," Edith groaned. She heard enough of it from the other side of that wall, even when she had her ipod on full blast.

"Who said anything about sex?" Sybil gasped, feigning shock at Edith's assumption. "I said 'sleepover', which is true, Tom and I literally _slept_ together on the night of our first date…" she smiled at the memory. "Now we did have sex the following morning, I will admit—"

"ENOUGH!" Edith groaned, grabbing her pillow and throwing it at Sybil's head. Sybil laughed and threw the pillow back, before scurrying back into the living room and plopping herself down onto the couch. Edith emerged a few minutes later, shoes on and making sure she had everything she needed in her purse. "Do you think I should take a jacket? It has been raining off and on today…"

"Remind me again about this guy?" Sybil asked as Edith poked her head out the window, inspecting the atmosphere and deciding that a jacket would be a good idea, just in case.

"His name is John," she began. "John Drake."

Sybil frowned a little, but Edith assumed it was only because her sister didn't recognize the name. But why would she? For once Edith Crawley would be going out on a date with someone that was completely of her own choosing, and who had no prior connection to any member of the Crawley family. Which right now, was what she needed, very much.

"How did you meet?" Sybil asked, still frowning.

"At a coffee shop near Christ Church College; last Thursday, if you remember? I was waiting for you, we were going to have lunch, but you were running a little late, doing some research on Lewis Carroll, if I remember correctly—"

"Right, right, I remember," Sybil murmured. "And…yes, I remember walking in and seeing this guy get up from the chair next to yours, but I didn't realize anything had happened…"

"Well, it did!" Edith smiled. "We hit it off, or so seemed; he's from Yorkshire too, actually, and if you must know, is a gardener and head groundskeeper over at the college."

To this bit of information, Sybil's eyes went wide. "A…a groundskeeper?"

Edith nodded. "Why so shocked? You date an Irish Catholic working class socialist who once worked as a mechanic and chauffeur before becoming a journalist; why can't I date a gardener?"

She didn't say this next part to Sybil, but the truth was she was desperate for whomever she dated to be _very different_ from the men of her past. And John Drake seemed to fit that bill perfectly.

"Anyway, we've been sending texts and emails to each other during the week, and we finally settled on going out tonight, so…ta da!" she smiled, holding her hands out and presenting herself.

Sybil smiled back and nodded her head in approval. "Well, as I said before, you look lovely. And Mr. Drake, I am sure, will not know what hit him!"

Edith blushed and smoothed her hands down her skirt. She was trying to take a page out of her sister's book (both sisters, really) and be cool and confident, as well as comfortable in her own skin. All her life, Edith knew she was the "odd sister"; both Mary and Sybil were ravishing brunettes, whose beauty had drawn the attentions of many. She was the somewhat gawky, awkward, ginger child, whose hair lightened as she got older, and would now be better categorized as a "strawberry blonde", but she was a "late bloomer" when it came to physical beauty, and boys always preferred the company of her sisters. Because of this, it seemed that everyone, from her grandmother to her parents, to even Mary and Sybil, had tried in some way to "set her up" with someone. She had never really felt confident enough to seek a man out on her own, until now.

"Well…" Edith sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall above Sybil's couch. "I suppose I should be going; we're meeting at the restaurant," she explained.

"I won't wait up," Sybil giggled, giving her sister a wink.

Edith poked her tongue out at her sister, before smiling, waving goodbye, and shutting the door behind her. The second she had, the butterflies began fluttering. But she closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath, and then took a determined step down the corridor, away from the flat.

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Sybil got at least another half-hour of work finished after her sister had left, before finally deciding to close her laptop for the evening and make some dinner for herself. She yawned, stretched both arms up over her head, before proceeding to the tiny kitchen to make her old stand-by when it was just her: mac n' cheese. Her grandmother would be groaning at her "common" meal, and no doubt her father would be frowning as well, but Sybil saw no point in cooking something "extravagant", especially when it was just her.

She sighed and set the water to boil on the stove top and proceeded to get the other ingredients out, wondering how Edith's dinner date was going. She hoped it was well; after all, this was entirely arranged by Edith's own doing, which Sybil took as a very positive sign! _Maybe she's finally ready? Finally ready to move forward?_ She hoped so; her sister deserved some happiness, especially after the horrible way "he who must not be named" had treated her over the past seven years.

Sybil wrapped her arms around herself and hugged her body, tucking her chin into the collar of the oversized rugby shirt and breathed in the masculine scent that clung to it. God she missed him; some nights felt a little more difficult than others, and this was one of them, possibly because it was the first night in a long while when it was just her by herself.

Fourteen months ago, Sybil had met Tom Branson, who had been hired to give her sister driving lessons. Sybil had just returned from a holiday in the States, visiting her American grandmother, when she was surprised to see that Edith was the one sitting behind the wheel of a car, picking her up at Heathrow. Sitting next to Edith in the passenger seat was a nervous looking (and somewhat green-faced) Irishman who she later learned was Edith's driving teacher. She also soon realized why he looked the way he did, because she too clung to the cushions of the backseat at the wild turns Edith made in her effort to get out of the airport and back onto the main motorway. There was no rhyme or reason to explain why she and Tom felt an instant connection (although they joked with Edith that perhaps it was a combined concern that they weren't going to survive the drive back to Downton), but whatever the reason, it happened. He was staying at the house, ironically in the old chauffeur's cottage that had been converted into a guest house for tourists who wished to stay on the property of the grand estate when her family was in residence (which was only in the late summer and at Christmas; the rest of the year was spent in either York or London). Sybil looked for any excuse to "pop by" and see him, quickly developing a close friendship that seemed to grow more and more with each passing day. Finally, when Edith's lessons came to an end, Sybil was determined to ask him out on a proper date…which became another funny story, as he had planned on doing the same. It didn't take long for things to accelerate from that point.

Offering driving lessons to posh daughters like Edith was just a side job to make extra cash. Tom Branson's real job (and passion) was journalism, and he had been working for several news outlets (all with a somewhat left-leaning bias) back in Ireland, but had come to Britain with hopes of getting a position with _The Guardian_. He must have impressed someone, because the paper said they would take him on as a freelance journalist for the time being, but believed that within a few months, he would have a more permanent position. His original plan had been getting a flat in London, but both he and Sybil had grown so close in such a short period of time, that on the night before she was to head back to Oxford, she threw out the idea about the two of them getting a place together.

And so they did. And it was perfect. Or as perfect as it could be, in such a small and somewhat cramped university flat. But Sybil always preferred a simpler lifestyle compared to the one she had been born into and that her father and grandmother had come from, so she didn't mind it one bit. And really, everything truly did feel perfect. The smaller second bedroom became Tom's office, and during the day while she attended classes and lectures, he would do research at some of the university libraries for his articles, and in the afternoons they would both meet, sometimes at their flat, sometimes at a coffee shop, and proceed to work together, her studying and researching for her Masters thesis, he writing and communicating via email with various news sources both in London and back in Dublin. For five blissful months, this was how they lived; scholars by day, passionate couple by night. And while she had had boyfriends in the past, Sybil had always put her academic work ahead of romance. Tom was her first; the first man she ever shared her bed with, and the first man she had ever murmured the words, "I love you" to.

Then things changed. Not badly, but they did change. _The Guardian_ announced that they wanted him to start spending a few days a week in London, working at their office and covering some Parliamentary sessions once a week. So he began to commute to the city, which was roughly an hour and a half train ride. It wasn't so bad at first; hundreds of Oxford residents commuted back and forth to London every day! However, _The Guardian_ began to increase Tom's hours, moving from twice a week to three times, and now currently to four times. He was also asked to cover special political events, such as rallies, conferences, and the occasional MP interview. In many ways it was wonderful, because this was exactly what Tom had been working to achieve! He was almost there; almost a full-time journalist.

But it did mean certain sacrifices.

For one, the constant commuting was starting to take a toll. The hours Tom kept were having a strain on his health. He always looked so tired when he came back to Oxford, having little energy to do more than just sleep upon arriving home. He also had to get up early, normally between 5-6am to make his train and get into the city before 8. It was ridiculous that he was tiring himself out like this, so it was Sybil's idea, even though she hated it, that he get a small flat or room in London, just for the purpose of having a place to stay on nights when he would be keeping late hours at the newspaper. They had been living like this for nearly two months now; and yet Sybil wasn't sure she would ever get used to it. Still, she tried to ignore the heartache by throwing herself more and more into her work, and then there was her sister.

For six months now, Edith had been living with her and Tom in Oxford. She was desperate to get away from their parents, and Sybil couldn't quite blame her. While all the Crawley sisters loved their parents, they could be rather suffocating, and Sybil knew that their mother had a tendency to "over-worry" for her daughters. So in a desperate attempt to once again reassert her independence, Edith reached out to Sybil at their sister Mary's wedding, and begged if she could stay with her and Tom, just for a little while, until she got back on her feet. Thankfully Tom didn't mind; he always seemed to get along with Edith, and he easily became the big brother her sister never had.

However if they thought their Oxford flat was cramped before, it felt like a sardine can with her sister living there. Tom found a small, slim bed that could fit in the office, and that became Edith's bedroom. On the nights when Tom stayed in London, Sybil and Edith ate dinner together, and Edith would scour the newspaper and various websites, looking for inspiration on what to do, while Sybil did her research. In many ways it reminded Sybil of her first few years at Oxford, when she had a roommate and lived in a dormitory. However, as much as she loved her sister and would never throw her out, she could not deny she longed for the days when it was just her and Tom again.

…She also longed for the days when she and Tom didn't have to worry about their "volume level", when it came to taking advantage of those nights when he was home.

She sighed and stirred the butter, milk, and neon orange powder that was meant to be cheese, into the pot that contained her softened macaroni noodles, closing her eyes briefly and holding the cuff of Tom's rugby shirt to her nose, breathing it in and wishing with all her heart that he was there.

Apparently a genie was watching over her.

"Hey good lookin', whatcha got cookin'?"

"OH!" Sybil gasped when two strong arms encircled her waist and she felt her body being pulled back against the familiar plains of her boyfriend's broad, muscular chest. She abandoned the spoon she had been stirring her dinner with, and quickly turned in his arms to face him, the happiest smile spreading across her face as she looked up into his loving blue eyes. "You're here!"

He grinned and leaned down, her face tilting in anticipation of his kiss. A soft, pleasured moan escaped her throat at the wonderful feeling of his lips against hers. Oh Lord, how long had been since their last kiss? Two days? Two days too long.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else, if I had the choice," he murmured against her lips, his forehead touching hers.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, her heart bursting with love, and her eyes filling with happy tears. Sometimes it amazed her, these emotions she had for him. She had missed him, really missed him, and it was impossible to explain how happy she was to have him back.

"But…but I thought you were coming back tomorrow?"

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I missed you," he confessed. "I skipped both lunch and dinner so I could get my work done and take the last express train out of London."

Her eyes widened at this revelation. "Oh Tom, you must be starving! I have enough macaroni, I can make you—"

"I had a sandwich on the train, love," he chuckled, his arms tightening around her, not wanting to let go. "And the only thing I'm starving for is…" he once again captured her lips and Sybil easily melted against him, sighing her mouth open and welcoming the velvety sweetness of his tongue. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer, always wanting more.

They were panting when their lips finally parted.

"Where's Edith?" Tom asked, seeming to realize just now that her sister wasn't there.

Sybil couldn't help but giggle. "On a date."

Tom's eyes widened. "A date?"

Sybil nodded. "That's right; she met a guy at a coffee shop near Christ Church College almost a week ago; they're having dinner tonight."

Tom seemed just as impressed as Sybil had been when she had first learned the story. "Wow…Edith throwing herself back into the dating ring…"

"I know," Sybil sighed. "And all arranged by her own hand, as well."

This seemed to impress Tom even more. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

A small smile spread across Sybil's face. "Yeah…I think it is," she murmured. It was a sign of moving on, a sign of growth, a sign that her sister wasn't going to let the horrors of her past rule her and keep her from living life.

"So…" Tom murmured, low and deep, his accent growing thicker. "If she's out…?"

Sybil gasped as she felt his hands move down from her waist to her rump, cupping her cheeks through her sweatpants and pulling her against his body, giving her a good feeling of just how much he had missed her.

Dinner would have to wait. She quickly reached behind her, turned the stove off and put a lid on top of the pot containing her macaroni. She reached up to remove her glasses, but Tom stopped her, pushing them back up her nose. "Leave them on," he whispered, his lips already kissing her jaw, before moving down her neck.

Sybil giggled, the stumble on his chin tickling her skin. "What…you want 'sexy librarian'?"

"Mmmmmm…" he growled his approval against her neck. "More like 'sexy Oxford professor'."

"Very well…" she whimpered as his teeth nipped her ear, before pushing against his shoulders until she could see his face. "Now Mr. Branson…" she put on a stern voice. "I'm afraid you've been tardy; I may have to give you a demerit."

A wicked grin spread across his face, and Sybil gasped and laughed as without warning, he scooped her up, his hands cupping her rump and her legs wrapping around his waist as she squealed while he carried her over to the couch. "I promise to stay late after class to win back your good favor, Prof. Crawley."

* * *

Edith groaned as she climbed the stairs in her wet clothes, each step feeling heavier than the last. All she wanted to do was get inside Sybil's flat, take a hot bath, slip on her pajamas and climb into bed. Well…maybe not take a hot bath, she was soaked enough.

When she finally reached the flat, she realized she didn't have the spare key her sister had given her, naturally, because it was in her purse…which now belonged to some thief.

Fantastic. Hopefully Sybil wasn't in too deep a sleep.

However, as she lifted her hand to knock on the door, she noticed it wasn't shut entirely. Her brow furrowed; she could have sworn she shut the door properly when she had left.

The door to Sybil and Tom's flat was notorious for not shutting all the way unless you gave it a good tug and heard the latch click. This had been the very first thing Sybil had told her after she had moved in, and since then Edith always made sure she did just that. Had Sybil gone out? She bit her lip, wondering if she should enter. But she didn't have a phone on her to call or text to find out where her sister was. She held her breath and pushed the door open, just a little bit, and soon realized that the inside corridor was dark. Great, a dark flat and the door wasn't shut all the way. This had the makings of a slasher movie.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

Edith's eyes went wide at the sound of her sister's voice. "SYBIL!" She didn't even hesitate, she pushed the door open and rushed inside, her hand flying to the nearby light switch and clicking it, prepared to launch herself at whoever was attacking her sister—

"OH!"

Edith's cheeks went red and her hand flew to her mouth, and she quickly turned away—although it was too late, because she had already gotten a good glimpse of more than she ever wanted to see of her sister and her sister's boyfriend on the couch…doing the sort of thing that would result in the sort of noise Sybil had just made.

"EDITH!" Sybil gasped, grabbing an afghan that was slung over one arm of the couch and quickly throwing it over both her and Tom. Tom muttered a curse in Irish, and sunk low on the couch, as if hoping the afghan would swallow him up.

"Um…sorry, the…the door wasn't shut all the way…" Edith tried to explain with her back to the somewhat underdressed couple. She coughed and then added a quick, "Hi, Tom."

She heard him clear his throat, before replying, "Hi, Edith."

"Right, well…" Edith sighed, carefully taking a few steps backwards, trying to maneuver herself around the flat without having to turn and look at them. "Um…I…I'm just going to slip into…you know," she gestured towards her room. "Um…carry on, carry on; don't mind me."

Sybil groaned and lowered her head completely beneath the afghan while Edith slunk past, not saying anything until she heard the second bedroom door shut.

"Well…" Tom said after a somewhat awkward silence.

"Indeed," Sybil answered. That was a sure way to kill the mood.

Her face was burning with embarrassment as she climbed off her boyfriend's lap. She gave Tom an apologetic look, but he answered the best way he could, giving her a lopsided grin and leaning close to brush her lips with a quick kiss, before rising and grabbing his trousers which had been earlier discarded. "Suppose the date didn't go that well?"

Sybil bit her lip and glanced in the direction of Edith's room, hugging the afghan around her rather nude body. "She does seem to be back rather early," she murmured, glancing at the clock overhead. "It's only quarter past 9."

Tom was frowning, his eyes zeroing in on the wet footsteps Edith had left in her wake. "I don't know if you noticed…" he began, his face burning with embarrassment as he recalled the past few minutes. "But…was she soaked through?"

Sybil let go the afghan and quickly tugged Tom's rugby shirt back over her body. "I have a feeling there's a story behind all this."

Tom nodded, already moving to the kitchen. "I'll make the tea."

* * *

**_Coming next..._**

_Edith shares her horrible evening, and Sybil begins to plot..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's chapter 3! Even though EAST Alliance Day has passed, the feeling continues as I hope you will see with this chapter! Patience my dear E/A shippers, your fav pair will meet soon ;o) think of it as a yummy soufle; you don't want to rush it! I'll try to make the wait worth it, I promise :oP But there are some future E/A feels in this chapter, as well as a little more S/T feels too. Also...while this story is Rated T (and will most likely remain that way) the "hint" of sexytimes is mentioned (I couldn't help it! It just snuck in there!) It's not graphic or anything, but it is implied so I hope that does not offend. Anyway, thank you again for reading and reviewing! And may the spirit of EAST continue!_

* * *

_Chapter Three_

"_MARRIED!?"_

Edith groaned and nodded her head. At first she didn't want to talk about her date from hell (especially after the embarrassing sight she had walked into), but the offer of Earl Grey and a sympathetic ear became too tempting, and so here she sat, in her narrow bed, hugging her mug while her sister sat at the foot, and Tom lingered in the doorway, sipping his own cup.

She had told them everything about the disastrous evening, starting with how she had been mugged and had her purse and everything taken from her, before the heavens decided to open up and drench her. Tom called the police to make the report, and Sybil called the various credit card companies to keep an eye on any mysterious purchases. Now that all of that had been taken care of, Edith settled down with her tea and proceeded to tell the sad, pathetic tale about her disastrous dinner date.

In the beginning everything seemed to be going splendidly! They were having a friendly conversation at the bar while waiting for their table, he telling her about his work around the university as a groundskeeper, her about growing up in Yorkshire, although she decided to leave out her reasons for coming to Oxford. Then their table was ready, and they proceeded to sit, he being very attentive and even pulling her chair out for her. Edith smiled and blushed and thought that she had made a good choice, taking the chance and showing an interest in Mr. John Drake. But shortly after their orders had been taken and the wine had been poured, an irate woman burst into the restaurant, looked across the room and upon spying John, let out a screech before rushing to where they were sitting and starting to pummel the man with her purse. Edith stared in shock, and rose from her chair to stop the woman, demanding to know who she was, and then froze when she threw back at her, _"I'M HIS WIFE! OR DIDN'T HE TELL YOU THAT?"_ And judging from the guilty expression her date wore, Edith realized that indeed it was true.

"I…I can't believe…" Sybil was stammering as she tried to make sense of the story. However Edith could tell that she was growing more and more agitated as the details sank in. "That BASTARD!" she finally growled, looking ready to go out and commit murder, if she came across John Drake.

Edith sighed. "Yes; yes, I think it's safe to say he is."

"Want me to go and break his kneecaps?" Tom offered with a sympathetic smile. He said it as a joke, and was pleased to hear Edith giggle, but there was a part of him that meant it too. Even though he had been scared out of his wits when he got into a car with Edith Crawley behind the wheel, he had formed a close bond with her over the weeks he had been offering her driving lessons, and the months that followed when he started to date Sybil. He got along with both of Sybil's sisters (although it took a while to warm up to Mary at first), and he was pleased that he could, in essence, be the brother they had never had. And even though he had never met the "_other" _bastard (her relationship with that prick had ended long before Robert Crawley had hired him to teach her to drive), he could not deny he felt very protective of her, and both he and Mary's husband, Matthew, had made a vow that should they ever come across the son-of-a-bitch, they would make him regret all those years he had mistreated Edith.

"Thanks, but no," Edith laughed in answer to Tom's question. "Though I appreciate the thought!"

Tom lifted his mug in salute and decided to give the sisters some privacy. As soon as he had walked away, Edith looked at Sybil in confusion. "I thought you said he wasn't coming back until tomorrow?"

"That's what I thought too! But he got his work finished and decided to come back tonight and…well…" Sybil was turning beet red and Edith couldn't help but smirk at the somewhat embarrassed expression on her younger sister's face.

"And 'young love' could not be stopped," Edith teased, laughing as her sister groaned and lowered her extremely red face into her hands. "Why do I have the feeling that wasn't the first time you two have done something like that on that couch?"

Sybil lifted her head and gave her sister a look. "It wasn't as if we expecting an audience!"

Edith made a face. "Oh, don't remind me!"

Sybil groaned and rolled her eyes. "Well if I had known you were going to be coming home so soon, we wouldn't have…" her voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying, and Edith's teasing smile quickly began to fade.

"Yes…well, I suppose I can't fault you for that," Edith murmured, swallowing and looking down at her lap. "It's your flat, and heaven knows you both have sacrificed so much of your privacy in letting me stay," she attempted to joke, although it was quite clear there was nothing funny to laugh at.

"Edith—"

"No, it's alright, Sybil; I shouldn't make fun. After all, what do I know about good, healthy relationships?"

"Stop that!" Sybil grabbed hold of her sister's hands. "Don't you dare beat yourself up! He was a wanker, plain and simple!"

Edith smiled, but there was no happiness behind it. "Which one?" she sighed. "John Drake? Or…" her voice trailed off, not really wanting to murmur his name.

"Both of them," Sybil answered. "All of them."

A bitter laugh escaped Edith's throat. "Yes…I do seem to attract the wankers, don't I?"

Sybil groaned. "Oh Edith, I didn't mean—"

"I know," Edith reassured, sighing with sad resignation. "But it's true. My track record is far from stellar, shall we say. In fact…when I think about it, I see an eerie pattern," she frowned. "All the men I have ever liked or dated turned out to either be gay or in love with one of my sisters!"

"Oh that's not true, you—"

"Isn't it? I'll prove it!" Edith interrupted, holding up her hand and listing off names with her fingers. "My first crush was Thomas Barrow; gay," she lowered a finger. "Then came Matthew, but naturally he was in love with Mary," she lowered a second finger, "as was Evelyn Napier who Mary tried to set me up with…" she lowered a third before making a face, "Ugh, and then Mama thought Larry Grey would be the right man, but of course you know how _that_ went."

Sybil closed her eyes and groaned; apparently Larry thought he was being set up with the youngest Crawley sister, and upon learning his date was with Edith, practically threw a tantrum that would rival that of most two year-olds.

"Now I will admit that your friend Tom Bellasis was nice, but like the others, he fancied a _different_ Crawley…"

"I swear Edith; I didn't know he liked me! I never—"

Edith waved her hand, dismissing the matter. "And John Drake makes six; I will give him credit for being the first married man on my list, but…" she sighed and shook her head. "Gay, in love with another, or married," she shook her head. "I honestly don't know why I bother—"

"Look," Sybil couldn't stand and listen to anymore. "You have had some bad luck, it's true, _BUT_," she emphasized. "That doesn't mean you should give up!"

"Doesn't it?" Edith asked, looking into her sister's eyes. "Shouldn't I quit while I'm ahead? Maybe I'm not meant for love? Maybe…I'm to be like one of your authors, like Jane Austen—I mean, she never married! And this is the 21st century, not Edwardian, England; it's not as if a woman _needs_ to have a husband or partner to be validated. Maybe that's the thing? I should just throw myself into…my work…" her voice trailed off because she knew the problem with this argument was that she didn't have work to throw herself into. She had absolutely nothing…

Sybil sighed and squeezed her sister's hands. "You're absolutely right in the sense that you don't need a man to feel validated. And if that's what you want, then that's perfectly fine! Because what matters is _your _happiness; that's all I or any of us want for you. But by that same token, don't for a second think that you're 'not meant' for love," she sternly told her sister. "Don't give up, Edith, please; don't give up on yourself. It _will_ get better, _all_ of it!" Oh if only Edith could believe her.

Edith sighed and returned her sister's squeeze, putting on a smile for Sybil's benefit when in truth it hurt to do so. She envied Sybil's strength; envied her courage and faith. It was a strange role to find herself in, being the older sister who looked up to the younger one. Wasn't she meant to be the guiding hand? Wasn't she meant to be the one sitting at the foot of the bed, offering advice and words of support over a cup of Earl Grey?

…Wasn't she supposed to have her life together already?

"Wait a second…" Sybil's voice brought her out of her thoughts and Edith looked at her, noticing Sybil's brow furrowed in confusion. "If your purse was stolen…how…how did you manage to pay for a cab ride home?"

Edith's eyes widened and her mind immediately drifted back to the kind, chivalrous stranger who had given her his cab and paid for her ride home. "Oh…just…just a 'Good Samaritan' taking pity on a 'drowned rat'," she joked, waving her hand dismissively. He had felt sorry for her because his cab had splashed her. He felt he had owed it to her, nothing more.

…Although he had murmured something about wanting his act to be at least one good thing in a night when so many bad things had happened.

…And he did have very kind eyes.

_Oh goodness, listen to yourself. Why do you even keep going on about it? It's not as if you'll ever see that man again, and even if you did, then what? Thank him for his charity? Because that's all you are: a charity case. _

"Edith?"

She coughed and looked back at Sybil, who was looking at her with curious eyes.

"Nothing," she said, forcing another smile to reassure her sister that everything was fine. "Even though we don't have to meet Tom at the station tomorrow, can we still go out for breakfast?"

Sybil knew when her sister (either of her sisters) were attempting to distract her, and could tell that this was the purpose behind her question about breakfast. For some reason Edith didn't wish to dwell on her supposed 'Good Samaritan', but years of playing referee between her two older sisters had taught her the value of when to pick and choose your battles, and this was not one to pursue, at least not at the moment. So she answered Edith's question by putting on a smile and nodding her head. "Of course; I'll even let you pick out the café," she joked, knowing one of Edith's guilty pleasures was American breakfasts, where they had sweet mixed with the savory.

Edith laughed and despite her earlier attempt at trying to distract Sybil and avoid further questioning about her journey home, she did sound genuine and perhaps for the first time all evening, a little happy.

_Not the first time; there was a moment when he held his umbrella over your head and smiled at you, his blue eyes shining with warmth and concern that you felt happy…_

"Well…" Sybil sighed, rising to her feet. "I'll let you get some rest, shall I?"

Edith nodded, offering her sister a thankful smile. "Goodnight," she murmured as she settled back on her narrow bed. She was tempted to say more, to offer a "thank you" for all that both she and Tom had done for her, but she had a feeling that once she started, the tears would soon follow, so instead she swallowed the emotion and rolled over onto her side, as if she were going to fall asleep right away.

Sybil murmured her own goodnight, and then turned the light off before quietly shutting the bedroom door and returning to the kitchen where her untouched dinner awaited her. She didn't really have an appetite, and the macaroni was stone cold by this point. Sybil sighed and ended up putting the noodles in a container, hoping that perhaps in the next day or so she could reheat them, and proceeded to make her way to her own bedroom where Tom was waiting, already in bed with his own laptop open and reading glasses on. He looked up and smiled, closing the computer and removing his glasses, holding his hand out and beckoning her to come to bed. He didn't need to ask twice.

"So…?" he began, his face mirroring hers with sympathy. "Good talk?"

Sybil shrugged her shoulders as she proceeded to get ready for bed. "As good as it could be, considering the circumstances," she mumbled, removing his rugby shirt and slipping on a tank top. "Oh I don't know," she threw her hands up in frustration. "I mean…she's a good person, Tom!"

"I know that," he assured.

"Then _why?_ Why does it seem that…that…" her voice trailed off, partially because she didn't want to put her thoughts into words. _Why does it seem that Edith's always having the worst luck?_

"Reminds me of that book; the one written by the American rabbi? When Bad Things Happen to Good People," he murmured. "You know I'm not trying to dismiss things when I say that 'shit happens', but it's true; shit does happen and sadly, more so than not, it seems to always happen to good people, people who we don't feel deserve it. But…" she lifted her eyes to meet his, waiting for him to finish. "But," Tom continued. "Good things happen too; and I've always held to the belief that when you put the good and the bad side by side, the good always outweighs the bad."

Sybil couldn't help but smile at her boyfriend's optimism. It was positively "un-English", but then he was Irish, after all.

"Need further proof?" he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Alright; remember that big fight Mary and Matthew had the night before the wedding?"

Sybil groaned and nodded her head. She couldn't even remember what the fight had been about, but for several stressful hours, it looked as if the wedding was going to be called off and Mary and Matthew were going to part ways forever! She also remembered how it was Tom's first time back amongst the Crawley family since his time as Edith's driving instructor. It had been very awkward for the both of them, and matters weren't helped by the fact that her father wasn't making things easy, seeing Tom as more than just a "chauffeur", but now as his youngest daughter's boyfriend (whom she was living with at this point). She even remembered an argument erupting at one point, where her father had accused Tom of "seducing her behind his back", and two men blew up and began to hurl insult after insult at each other…until Matthew stepped in to calm things down.

Thanks to Matthew, her father eased off his initial prejudices and Tom began to feel a little more welcome, at least amongst the engaged couple they had all come to celebrate. Indeed, Mary (who originally seemed to share their father's misgivings about the relationship) began to warm up more and more to them, and even defended them at one point in front of their grandmother, who had made somewhat snide comment about the suit Tom had brought for the wedding, saying she didn't care if had only brought pajamas, she was happy her sister and boyfriend were there to celebrate this day with her and Matthew! So really, when the fight happened (which Mary herself labeled later as "unnecessary drama") Tom felt compelled to help, and sought out Matthew who had gone to a pub in the village to drown his sorrows, and got him to march back to Downton to confront Mary and get them to see eye to eye. It worked, the wedding went off without a hitch, and Tom suddenly found himself in the unlikely and unexpected role of "best man"—plain suit and all, much to their grandmother's horror.

Yes, it been a roller coaster, getting Mary and Matthew finally to the altar (and not just that day, but in the years that proceeded their engagement) but after all those struggles, all those "bad things", the good did come at last, and based on the emails and letters Mary sent from her and Matthew's home in Manchester, the two sounded blissfully happy. In fact…Sybil found herself struggling with remembering when things weren't looking as rosy as they did now. The two just seemed so perfect together, and so happy…

Indeed, the good did outweigh the bad.

"I won't deny that your sister is going through a rough patch, one that sometimes seems to be unending, but it _will_ get better…we both know that, and we need to help her—"

"—know that too," Sybil finished. Yes, the last thing Edith needed was for her sister to begin doubting. Tom was right; and Edith needed her to remain steadfast in her optimism that change would come.

She looked across the room to where he lay and smiled at him, her heart swelling with love and pride for the wonderful Irishman. She had gone through her own rough patch once upon a time, but she could hardly remember it thanks to Tom's loving and encouraging presence.

_The good outweighs the bad._

Not wanting to waste another second when she wasn't in his arms, she moved quickly across the room and crawled under the covers into his waiting arms. Just like his kiss, she had missed feeling his body next to hers these past two nights, and released a happy sigh as she went about the little ritual the two of them had created months before, when she didn't even start on her side of the bed, she simply ignored the two pillows and instead, snuggled close, resting her head against his chest, humming her happy approval at the feel of his strong arms encircling her and his lips gently nuzzling the top of her head.

Sybil sighed and brought her ear to rest over his heart, soothed by its gentle rhythm. "Thank you," she whispered.

She heard him chuckle, and smiled as he brushed some dark brown strands of hair from her cheek. "For what, love?"

_Everything_, she thought. "For your support in all this, your support for me—"

"I'd be a lousy boyfriend if I didn't," he chuckled.

She giggled. "And your support for Edith," she added.

"I'd be a lousy friend if I didn't," he responded, and Sybil smiled at that. She loved Tom, and was so happy to have him in her life as her partner, but she was also so happy with how well he got on with both her sisters, and especially for the much needed friendship she felt he provided for Edith. As much as Sybil wanted Edith to know she could always depend on and come to her for anything, she was realistic enough to know that sometimes, there were some things where you needed a friend to talk to, instead of family. And Tom provided her with that outlet.

"Are you ready for Monday?" he asked, changing the subject.

Sybil nodded her head against his chest. "Even though I have the weekend to finish preparing, I don't think there's much else I can do," she sighed. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be!"

He kissed her head again and then reached over to the bedside table to switch off the lamp. "You'll do fine, love; I know."

She smiled at that and settled even further against him as the evening shadows filled the room with darkness. "And you?" she asked, turning her head towards him, even though she couldn't really see his face in the dark. "We haven't really had a chance to talk about your day."

"Not much to say," he sighed, settling back further in the bed. "Although I did learn that the new editor will be making his appearance sometime, either this week or next."

Sybil bit her lip. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? A new editor could mean that Tom's involvement with _The Guardian_ would either increase and finally make him a full-time journalist…or decrease slightly, as he had told her there were some cuts already being made in various departments. A decrease would mean less time away in London, but Sybil immediately hated herself for thinking such a thought (and liking it) because this was Tom's dream, this was the reason he had moved from Ireland to Britain in the first place! He fully supported her as she finished her masters and strived to earn her doctorate; the least she could do was fully support him in his hopes and dreams for the future.

"Well…" she said in the spirit of being a supportive girlfriend. "Let's hope he realizes how valuable you are."

He chuckled and murmured his thanks, before kissing her head once again and pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. They lay in the darkness, and Sybil continued to listen to his heart, as well as relax to the sound of his breathing. She couldn't deny there was a part of her that wanted to continue where they had left off, before Edith made her unexpected entrance, but then she thought of her sister in the next room, and knew that perhaps the last thing she would want to hear through the flat's thin walls was the sound of the both of them doing what she happened to walk in on.

"Edith wanted you to know that she's sorry about earlier," she murmured to him.

"Oh God," Tom groaned in embarrassment. Sybil couldn't help but giggle, snuggling closer. She had a feeling that the interruption was something they would all very much like to forget.

"We talked a little about boyfriends," she went on.

Tom's hands were running up and down her arms and across her shoulders, but paused briefly. "Uh oh…"

Sybil sat up and looked at him through the darkness, her eyes having adjusted and being able to at the very least make out the lines of his face. "What do you mean 'uh oh'?"

"Never a good sign when two women start talking about the men in their lives," he teased. "Like they're measuring us up."

"As if you have anything to worry about," she muttered, and despite the darkness, rolled her eyes at him. "You're the first serious boyfriend I've ever had."

"Yeah, so no pressure," he teased. Even though it hadn't been said, Sybil bit her lip in the dark and thought to herself, _my first serious boyfriend and I'm hoping…my only?_ She wasn't ready to get married or anything, at least not yet—in truth, she never even gave the idea much thought until she met Tom. But their romance was moving so quickly (they started living together after only dating for one month), that she couldn't help but wonder if this was the direction they were heading? After all, it wasn't so uncommon that one of them would say or murmur something about _"well that'll be a story to tell our grandchildren",_ and so forth.

She only prayed that those grandchildren were with Tom.

"Anyway," she continued, not wanting things to suddenly feel awkward. "Edith referred to some of her past experiences in dating…and…well, she murmured something about thinking that love wasn't for her, which I completely disagreed with and told her so, but…" she sighed, remembering how sad and defeated her sister looked. _She's just been going out with all the wrong sorts of guys!_ What Edith needed was…well, she needed a man like herself, a born romantic, someone to whom she could relate to on all sorts of things, not just a mutual acquaintance between family members. Plus, there was something else too, some reason that she had chosen to go out with John Drake that Sybil didn't quite understand…_yet_.

"I can relate…"

Sybil was surprised by Tom's words and quickly sat up to look at him, despite the darkness. "You can?"

He nodded. "Sure; my track record isn't the sort that fills a man with pride. The first girl I fancied only flirted with me to get close to my brother. I only had one girlfriend in school and that lasted an entire week. And any relationships that happened afterward were…well…nothing terribly special when I look back on them…" he shrugged.

Sybil bit her lip, her eyes finding his in the shadows. "And…now?"

His eyes held hers, and she could see a tender smile lift at the corners of his mouth while one hand rose to touch her cheek. "Now I _know_ they weren't special; certainly not when I compare to how I felt with them to what I feel and have with you."

Her breath caught and she felt that emotional lump from earlier catch in her throat. They had told each other countless times that they loved one another, but Tom still had the ability to render her speechless with just a few simple words that caused her heart to soar.

She leaned up and her lips found his in the dark. Tom instantly returned the kiss, deepening it and rolling them over until she was beneath him, her hands locked around his back, her fingers rising to thread in his hair, never wanting it to end. "I love you…" she moaned against his mouth in the dark.

She felt him smile against her lips before trailing them across her cheek until they were near her ear. "Oh my darlin'…" he whispered, his accent thick with desire and emotion. "I do love you so much…"

In a matter of minutes, their bodies found each other and began to move together, slowly and quietly, their passion kindling with each breath, each kiss, and every touch. She loved all the ways they found to make love, but there was always something so sweet and special about this slow, tender way. Their lips barely parted, both to muffle their cries as well as because Sybil didn't want Tom to stop kissing her. When their pleasure reached its beautiful completion, they lay together, tangled and panting, their noses playfully touching and nuzzling the other, until sleep finally began to carry them away.

Tom was the first to fall asleep, his forehead touching hers. Sybil smiled at him in the darkness, her hand resting against his cheek, softly caressing the skin but being careful not to wake him. She loved him so much, and felt so blessed. And she wanted Edith to have that same happiness, and knew, deep in her heart, that it was out there. No, no, she didn't believe for one second that her sister wasn't meant for "love".

And she felt more determined than ever to help her sister find it.

* * *

**_Coming next..._**

_Sybil is invited to a special party, and after a brief talk with her favorite professor, an idea dawns..._


	4. Chapter 4

_THE PLOT IS THICKENING! I hope people are still enjoying this! This was a fun chapter to write, partially because it allowed me to play with one of my favorite subjects: literature! (I majored in English) so it was fun going around and throwing out favorite books. I also had fun writing this, because I had the chance to explore Sybil and Anthony's relationship, and start to plant seeds for the future ;o) anyway, I won't delay you from reading, but thank you again for all the comments, reviews, favorites, and follows! Hope you enjoy and thanks again for reading!_

* * *

_Chapter Four_

Anthony Strallan sat in the back of the lecture hall and observed the room and the small gathering of students who, from what he could see, were paying close attention to the young lady instructing them in front. He was supposed to be taking notes, but he had long since abandoned his pen and notepad, too enraptured in the lesson his "prized pupil" was giving.

"…Talk to any person on the street and ask them to name a Bronte sister, and I assure you that a vast majority of them would be able to tell you Charlotte's name, and no doubt Emily's as well. We've all heard of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights; or at the very least we've all seen at least one film adaptation, surely? I for one found Michael Fassbender rather dashing as Mr. Rochester, and what woman wouldn't swoon at Sir Laurence Olivier's portrayal of Heathcliff?"

A chuckle went around the room, and Anthony himself smiled. She was very good at engaging the class. He paused from his listening and forced himself to make note of that.

"…But how many of those same people you speak to on the street would be able to tell you the name of the third Bronte sister? How many of _you_ here in this very room would have, before your reading assignment this week?"

Anthony noted how only two hands out of the ten gathered rose at the question. The class was tiny, made up of undergraduates who were just beginning their studies in Literature, and every session was taught by a graduate student, specifically those hopeful for recommendation to the doctorate program. He had observed five different hopefuls over the past few weeks, and while all of them were good in their own way, he didn't feel it was an exaggeration to say he believed Miss Crawley to be the best.

"…I am going to make a very bold and rather controversial statement when I say that I believe of the three Bronte sisters, Anne Bronte wrote the most important novel. And I would also declare that The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is one of the most important books written, not just by a female author, and not just during the early Victorian period, but of _all_ time. I mean, imagine! The subject matter of this book! Domestic violence, alcoholism, humilation, rape—Helen Graham suffers at the hands of all these things from the very man to whom she's told to love and trust: her husband! A woman seeking a divorce was positively unheard of, and would be a black mark against her character. And her husband has all the power, because as a man of this era, if he refuses to grant it to her, there is nothing that can be done! And what is worse, as a mother, Helen would be forced to relinquish all parental rights, and that is perhaps her greatest fear: watching her son become the same sort of monster to whom she is married to. So she does the unthinkable; she does something that NO AUTHOR, and certainly no woman author had ever done before: Helen runs away, and takes her son with her. Today, a woman in such circumstances has places to go; I've volunteered at such shelters. But where did women like Helen go during Bronte's time? She has so few options, and so not only does The Tenant of Wildfell Hall deal and shed light on the horrors that women of the early Victorian era faced at the hands of abusive spouses, but also on the injustices those women would face in society—forced to turn their 'accomplishments' into labor skills so that they can support themselves and their children. Helen is a single mother, receiving no support from society, no support from her neighbors, save one—she is an outcast—and all because she chose to leave her crippling situation. So many women today in a situation similar to Helen's struggle with having the courage to leave it; imagine the courage it must have taken for a woman in 1840?"

Anthony smiled and looked down at his notepad, scribbling a few more notes as the lecture continued. Sooner than he thought, the clock nearby struck the hour, signaling that the class was officially over. He was pleased to see that some of the students seemed disappointed that the time was up; always a good sign. Sybil smiled and thanked them for attending and giving her their attention, before turning back to the desk where her notes, books, and papers lay, quickly doing her best to organize everything while the class filed out. Anthony smiled at each passing student, also thanking them, before turning his attentions once again on Sybil.

"Now you can breathe a sigh of relief," he chuckled, stuffing his hands into the tweed pockets of his jacket as he descended the steps of the lecture hall to the front of the room where she stood.

Sybil laughed and did just that, letting out a long sigh while leaning against the desk and looking out over the now empty room, save for the two of them. "I can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like, addressing an entire room filled to capacity!"

"Ah yes, it can be rather daunting at first," he agreed, following her eyes to the room. "But that is something only Dr. Hughes has to worry about," he chuckled.

Sybil frowned at this. "_Your_ classes were filled to capacity! I remember having to wedge myself right…there," she pointed to a rather uncomfortable looking chair and desk near the far right corner of the room. "It was awful because the girl who sat beside me had the most pungent perfume that was really quite distracting when trying to pay attention."

He chuckled at this and smiled down at her. Yes, he remembered her very well; after the very first class (English Classical Literature) she marched right up to him, holding the syllabus that contained all the books they were to read that semester, and demanding to know why there were only two female authors, out of a list of fifteen.

"_As much as I adore Jane Austen, and I do, this is Oxford, Dr. Strallan, and we are literature students! I would be shocked and dismayed that none of them have picked up at least one of Austen's novels until this class! So assuming that they have, why not shed light on perhaps some lesser known authors? Anne Bronte, perhaps? How many people even know of her existence? She is often the forgotten Bronte to her two older and more popular sisters. Or if you wished to stick with Austen, might I suggest instead of reading __Persuasion__—which I do adore, don't misunderstand, but rather read __Northanger Abbey__ and include the gothic works of Mrs. Radcliffe beside it! That would be fascinating; to see the effects of the gothic novels which the heroine read, and discuss how for young ladies, such outrageous themes in literature, some of which would positively get a book banned in certain places, were viewed as a source of liberation from the mundane lifestyle of the Georgian era!"_

He had been stunned into silence at that first meeting, and remembered just staring back at her, blinking for who knows how long, trying to put his thoughts into order.

Some teachers would take offense at a student speaking so irately at them, especially on the first day. However, Anthony found her passion for literature very...surprising! And very pleasing. He had been teaching the subject for seventeen years, ten of which were spent at Oxford, and he had many exceptional students come and go, but none with the passion or the thirst for knowledge which Sybil spoke. He remembered smiling after she left, thinking to himself that she was going to be a challenge, but in the best sort of way. And indeed, she showed no fear in raising questions to things he brought up in class, but he didn't mind one bit, in fact it showed that she was not only engaging into the assignments and lessons, but seeking further understanding, as well as challenging her fellow students into looking at their work from another angle. Was it any surprise that she received the highest marks of any student in that class? As soon as the semester was over, he sought her out and asked if she would allow him to become her academic advisor, and he was very pleased that she said yes.

Indeed, he had watched her blossom as an undergraduate, and felt very proud as she excelled as a graduate student. Her masters thesis that he was helping her construct was remarkable, and he had little doubt that when she went before the board for review, for acceptance into the doctorate program at the end of the year, she would meet success there as well.

"One day you could be doing that," he murmured, turning his attention back from the room and smiling at her. "Teaching a hall full of students."

Sybil blushed and smiled but shook her head. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she sighed, slipping her folders and notebooks into her shoulder satchel.

Anthony rolled his eyes, an extremely casual gesture for an Oxford professor to make, but he smiled as he heard Sybil giggle. "Did you seriously think I wouldn't offer my recommendation to Dr. Hughes?"

Sybil threw the strap of her shoulder satchel around her body and blushed slightly. "So…so you thought it was good? Not too…" she waved her hands in the air, trying think of the appropriate word. "Too…_preachy?"_

Anthony couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh at her words. "Sometimes a little 'sermonizing' doesn't hurt," he chuckled. "But you kept on topic, you were engaging, you allowed your students to ask questions, and did your best to answer them, as well as make the best use of your time…you did splendidly!"

Sybil was beaming, clearly happy with the feedback he was providing. She had worked so hard in preparing for that class, worked so hard to get to this point. Just one more hurdle; one more step and then she would be on her way to becoming a full-fledged professor.

They both stood outside the lecture hall, their eyes adjusting to the light. "So what's the next step?" Sybil asked, looking eager as ever to conquer it. Anthony couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

"The next step is for you to take some time to relax," he advised. "By all means, spend some time writing and researching for your thesis if you wish, but my highest recommendation at the very least, is to go home, put your feet up, and enjoy a good cup of tea."

Sybil sighed but nodded her head. "I'll try, but it won't be easy! I just…I feel like I'm on a roll right now, and I don't want waste any chances!"

He smiled, once again thinking about how Miss Crawley reminded him of himself when he was her age, on the verge of trying to conquer the literary world in his studies.

"Speaking of my thesis," Sybil interrupted his thoughts. "Can we meet sometime later this week or early next to talk about the fourth section? I'm still convinced it's my weakest area, and would very much appreciate any advice you can give."

He nodded his head, pulling his pocket calendar out of his breast pocket. Many professors at Oxford, including ones much older than himself, used the latest in technology to keep their lives in order. But his mobile was still just that: a mobile, and when it came to keeping track of important dates, he still used a good, old-fashioned pocket calendar and pen. It wasn't that he was afraid of technology, not at all! He used a laptop computer, as well as a tablet for all his lecture notes and class work. But some things remained "traditional".

"I have some time open between two and four o'clock on Thursday if that suits you?"

Sybil had pulled out her own mobile (one that was clearly used for more than just calling someone) and was nodding her head as she checked her own schedule. "Yes, that would be perfect," she smiled, quickly typing it in.

Anthony was about to close the calendar and when he noticed a note he had made for that upcoming Friday. He paused, gazed at it, and then looked at Sybil with curious eyes. "Miss Crawley…" he began. "May I inquire as to your plans for this Friday evening at seven?"

Sybil looked surprised by his question. "Um…I don't know really."

"Allow me to explain," he continued, seeing her confusion. "Every year on the first Friday of September, we, that is the faculty and staff of the English department, have a party. Classes are resuming in full at that point, so it's a bit of a celebration," he explained. "And many of our doctorate students attend as well."

Sybil's eyes widened at his words. "Oh! Oh but…but Dr. Strallan, I…I'm not a doctorate student—"

"Not doctorate student, _yet_, Miss Crawley," he firmly stated. It would be a crime for the board not to admit her. No, he had every faith she would pass. "But that being said, graduate students that show promise have been invited in the past, and since your passion is in teaching, I think you should come and get to know some of the other members of faculty, if it's possible that you don't know them all, already," he chuckled. He knew several of his colleagues were also very fond of Sybil and thought she would one day make an excellent professor.

Sybil blushed again, but he could see from the look on her face that she was feeling both humbled, as well as excited about the prospect of attending such an event. "Is it very formal?" she asked.

Anthony shook his head. "Hardly; and it's actually held at the _Eagle and Child_," he explained, mentioning the famous Oxford pub that once upon a time had been the favorite of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and since remained a favorite for many lovers of literature, be they teachers or students.

"May I…" she blushed and looked down at the ground for a moment, before lifting her eyes, her cheeks still pink. "That is…do you think it's alright that I…that I bring someone with me?"

"Of course!" Anthony smiled, assuming she was referring to her boyfriend. He didn't know a great many details, and that was appropriate, however he was aware that the man was both Irish and a writer himself, in journalism. He also could tell that Sybil was very much in love with the young man, and that he made her happy; he only hoped that any similarities he felt with the young woman remained entirely in the realm of academia, and that her life by no means mirrored his younger years, especially in the realm of "love". No, he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

Sybil was beaming again, and looked even more excited than before. "Yes, yes, thank you, Dr. Strallan, I would be most honored to attend!"

He grinned and gave a slight bow of his head. "Splendid; I will inform those who are organizing the event that you and a guest shall be attending."

They made their farewells then, and Anthony smiled as she turned and immediately began to dial a number on her mobile, no doubt calling her beloved Irishman to tell him the news. He turned on the path and began to make his way back to his office, smiling and nodding his head at any student that passed and greeted him.

Upon returning, the first thing he did was call Dr. Hughes' office, to speak with her secretary, who also happened to be the one in charge of organizing the party for Friday evening.

"Miss Sybil Crawley and guest," the woman repeated back on the line. "And yourself, Dr. Strallan?"

Anthony frowned, confused by the woman's question. "Myself?"

"Yes, will you be bringing a guest as well?"

"Oh! Um…oh…" It was the same question he had been asked for the past ten years since he began teaching at Oxford. And his answer remained the same. "No."

"Ah well! Always next year, yes?" the secretary answered in a chipper voice, as if trying to hide any pity she felt for his somewhat pathetic answer.

"Yes," he replied, trying to sound as if the reality of his answer didn't bother him at all…when in truth, it was quite the opposite.

He hung up the telephone and turned his attentions back to the work that lay before him, shaking his head and trying to clear it from the sad memories of the past. He glanced at the large volume of English poetry that lay on his desk and sighed; best to leave the subject of romance to the experts.

* * *

Sybil was practically bouncing on her way back to the flat. As soon as her conversation with Dr. Strallan had ended, she was pulling her mobile out and calling Tom, wanting to share with him her news and wanting to share it with him now, rather than wait until later in the evening when he would be done with work. _Please don't be in a meeting; please don't be in a meeting…_

"Hey!" his voice filled her ear after the second ring. "Hail the conquering hero?"

Sybil laughed and even though she couldn't see him, she could feel Tom's smile across the line.

"That's my girl," he murmured. "Go on, tell me all about it."

"Oh gosh, can I?" she asked, biting her lip as she stood at an intersection and waited for the light to change so she could cross the street. "I don't want to get you into any trouble, especially if your new editor has graced you all with his presence."

He chuckled. "Funny you should mention that, because he has, in fact…" she heard Tom lifting his mobile away, and practically shouting in the background. "Say 'hello!' Michael!"

Sybil gasped. Michael? Tom was already on a first-name basis with his new editor?

"Hello Sybil! Well done!" she heard a voice call back.

"Future world-renowned Oxford professor right here, ladies and gentlemen!" she heard Tom's voice fill the room, earning several replies around him.

"Tom! Stop it!" she gasped, her face no doubt the color of a tomato, but she couldn't help but giggle at his sweet enthusiasm for her. Was it possible to love him more?

"Sorry, love, suppose I got a bit carried away," he chuckled, returning the phone to his ear at last.

_"'Michael'?"_ Sybil questioned, her face still bright red.

Tom laughed. "Yeah, Michael Gregson, really nice guy; serious when an editor needs to be, but not a micro-manager. I think you'd like him, Syb!"

She smiled. He sounded very happy too, which was important.

"Anyway, he saw your picture on my desk and I couldn't help myself—told him all about you and mentioned that today was a big day—"

"Oh Tom, you didn't?" she felt slightly mortified, but she couldn't help but smile at his sweetness. It had been very difficult, letting him go that morning. She was feeling anxious about the day and clung to him before he finally had to get out of bed to shower, dress, and make his train. But he kissed her and told her she was going to be great, and that he had every faith she would "kick arse".

_"And if it helps, know that I'll be thinking of you that entire time. Just imagine me sitting in the back and smiling…because that's exactly what I would do, if I was there."_

"So go on, now that you know I'm in no fear of being sacked, tell me all about it."

She started to, but stopped herself, remembering the invitation Dr. Strallan had given her, about the department party that Friday. "Tom, do you think you can get an earlier train on Friday?"

"Friday?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes, Dr. Strallan told me that all of the faculty and staff from the college English department will be gathering at the _Eagle and Child_ on Friday evening, around seven, and I have been invited to attend!"

"Oh wow," Tom murmured, clearly seeing how important this was to her.

"Exactly!" she giggled. "Doctorate students are often invited, but only once in a while are graduate students invited!"

"See? I wasn't kidding when I declared you as 'future world-renowned Oxford professor'," he chuckled with pride. "Well done, love; I'm so proud."

She blushed but kept her focus. "Anyway, like I said, the party starts at seven, and I have been invited, but I was also told I could bring a guest, and so I was hoping you could get an earlier train on Friday, rather than—"

She stopped when she heard an intake of breath on his side, like the sort one would make if hissing away at some pain.

"Tom?" she asked, swallowing and trying to keep her spirits high, even though a feeling of dread was creeping in.

"Ah…um…Syb, I um…I'm afraid I can't," he answered, his voice much softer now compared to earlier. His positive enthusiasm was also gone, and Sybil could feel her heart plummeting further.

"Why?" she whispered, her feet coming to a stop as she waited for his answer.

"Um…well, you see…several key ministers in the Labor Party are organizing a protest to take place in Hyde Park, in reaction to the cuts the Tories are making, amongst other things. There are even rumors that a few celebs are going to get involved," he added with a bit of a chuckle, as if trying to lighten the mood. It wasn't working. "Anyway, Michael asked…he asked me to cover it, and…and I said I would…"

Sybil felt numb. She wasn't quite sure how to react. Well, she knew how she _wanted_ to react, which in truth was rage at him for making this decision without telling her, without checking with her if they did have any plans for the weekend, however she immediately chastised herself for thinking such things, because it wasn't as if she had known about this party until just a few minutes ago. Still…she had been so looking forward to introducing him and…and sharing that moment, that feeling of achievement with the man she loved.

"And…and you can't slip out just for the evening on Friday?"

She regretted asking the question as soon as it had slipped passed her lips. How selfish did that sound? Even if he agreed to do that, there were no express trains on Saturday; he would have to get up extremely early to make it into London to cover the event, not to mention the price of trains increased on the weekend because of tourists.

"Ah, Syb, I…I'm afraid I can't," he sighed. "While a bulk of the event will be happening on Saturday, there are some interviews to cover Friday night—"

"Right, right, of course," she cut him off, taking a deep breath and resuming her walking. "Don't worry about it, forget I asked."

"Sybil…" his voice was a mixture of personal disappointment and slight irritation. "Come on love, don't be like that—"

"Like what?" she responded, wincing as soon as those words slipped passed her lips as well. _Now who's sounding like the petulant child?_

He sighed, as if trying to collect himself. The last thing either of them wanted was to have a fight across the phone, and Sybil certainly didn't want the high she was feeling after her successful class to be brought any lower than it already was. "Look, I…I'm sorry—"

"No love, I'm sorry," Tom sighed. "I…I wish I could come, I really do, and if I had known—"

"I know," Sybil interrupted, forcing a smile and hoping that he could hear it. "It's alright; I just learned about this and…well anyway, this is important, meaning your work—"

"Your work is important too, Syb, please don't think I'm not aware of that…" he sounded so sad and worried, as if he were afraid he didn't understand or appreciate what she was doing, and she couldn't help but feel her heart ache for him.

"I know," she whispered, her smile more genuine this time. "I know," she reassured. "But…well, anyway, um…that's alright. Maybe Edith will be my 'date'?" she joked, trying to bring some light back to the conversation, just as he had tried earlier.

She imagined him trying to force a smile just then, but she also imagined him still looking disappointed. "Sybil…" he began again, but she didn't want to hear any more apologies. What was the point? Tom needed to work and had made the commitment to do so before knowing that anything else had been planned. Simple as that.

…Then why did it still hurt?

"Look, I don't want to keep you from your work, I've probably done enough of that," she murmured, trying to sound light and teasing in her voice.

"But…but what about the class? You haven't told me—"

"Oh there's nothing much to tell," she waved her hand dismissively. "Like most things, I made a mountain out of a mole hill; it went very smoothly, just like you said it would."

"Sybil—"

"Tom, I have to go, but I'll call you later this evening, ok? Love you!" and before he could say anything further, she hung up.

_Coward!_ She was inside the building of her flat, and was leaning against the wall, gripping the railing to the stairs and fighting the urge to cry. No, no, she was not going to let this little disappointment ruin her day! Nor was she going to let it become a huge stumbling block for her and Tom. She would call him again soon; she doubted she would be able to wait until the end of his work day. She would call him again and apologize for how she had hung up and if he could listen, give him fuller details about her class, and move on from there.

She pushed open the door to her flat and was surprised to find Edith there, sitting on the couch, curled up with a cup of tea and a book open on her lap. She was so engrossed in whatever she was reading, she didn't even notice that her sister was there until Sybil cleared her throat.

"Oh!" Edith gasped, looking up, her hand resting against her chest. "Gracious, you startled me!"

Sybil gave her sister a sheepish smile, before removing her satchel and offering a quick apology. "I'm surprised you're here; I thought you'd be at a café or something?" She winced as soon as the words at left her mouth. After "the date from hell" (which was what she and Edith had started to call it over the weekend) it wasn't too surprising that her sister was taking a break from cafes and coffee shops.

Edith blushed and now wore a sheepish smile of her own. "I debated that," she confessed. "And it looks like a beautiful day, so I thought maybe I would just go and find some nice park bench and sit in the shade of a tree and read…" she picked up the book she had on her lap to show Sybil the cover. "But...I started it last night and became so engrossed in it, I actually fell asleep with the book lying open on my stomach! And then when I picked it up today, I couldn't put it down so…as you can see I haven't made it out the door yet."

Sybil was surprised as she observed her sister's reading choice. "Frankenstein? Really?"

Edith's look was a combination of both guilty and haughty. "What, you've read it! And I remember how you kept going on and on about it when you first read it—"

"I was sixteen!" Sybil laughed. "That was eleven years ago!"

"And you still haven't shut up about it!" Edith teased, laughing as Sybil faked as if she were going to throw something at her. "Anyway…I wanted to read something, and the last thing I wanted to read was anything that mentioned romance, so I thought 'why not a good horror story'?"

"Why not indeed?" Sybil giggled. "And you picked one of the best, in my opinion."

Edith nodded her head, smiling down at the book. "It is quite good; better than I anticipated, actually! Ugh, I can't stand Victor—I actually feel sorry for The Creature!"

"Where are you?" Sybil asked, craning her neck to see what page her sister was on.

"He, The Creature, has just met the poor blind man…oh Sybil, it's both hopeful and heartbreaking, because you know that he's finally finding acceptance, but you know it won't last!"

"Yes, just wait and see…" Sybil sighed, moving into her room to remove her heels and change out of the skirt suit she had worn for the day.

"Did it go well?" Edith asked from the couch. "You look a bit…frazzled."

"No, no, I'm fine!" Sybil lied. The whole thing with Tom on the phone was silly, and she didn't really want to talk about it. "And yes, thank you, it went very, very well!" she put on a smile as well as new blouse, before exiting the bedroom. "In fact, not only will Dr. Strallan recommend me to Dr. Hughes—"

"As if there was a doubt," Edith laughed.

Sybil blushed and smiled. "But not only that, but he also invited me to attend the English department's annual faculty and staff party this Friday!"

"Oh well done!" Edith smiled, although Sybil could see that there was something else in her sister's eyes, something that looked sad and weary. "Well…that will be nice; will Tom be going with you?"

Sybil bit her lip at her sister's question. "Um…no, no, he'll be in London all weekend, covering some sort of protest."

Edith frowned. "Protest? I don't understand—"

"Will you go with me?"

To say that Edith was surprised by the invitation was an understatement. "Me?" she asked, sounding unsure at the thought.

Sybil nodded and quickly took the spot on the other end of the couch. "Yes! We'll both get all dressed up and hit the town—"

"It's a department party that no doubt will be filled with 'stuffy' professors," Edith joked.

"Careful; your sister will one day be one of those 'stuffy' professors," she lifted her nose, trying to look very haughty like their grandmother.

Edith laughed. "Exactly; and everyone will be standing around the room, discussing great works of literature while sipping brandy, and I'll be the one standing in the corner with a completely clueless expression on my face."

"No!" Sybil shook her head. "It won't be like that at all! And you've read lots of interesting books—"

"I hardly think my box full of trashy, paperback romances can measure up with the works of Byron, Shelley, Keats—"

"Oh please," Sybil rolled her eyes. "Back in their day, those men were the epitome of what you call 'trashy romance'. Besides, you're quite fluent in the works of Jane Austen; I know you read Sense and Sensibility every year around Valentine's Day—"

"Oh gracious, how pathetic does that sound?"

Sybil swatted her arm. "You _are_ interesting, Edith; you have many wonderful things to share and discuss! Please come with me? Be my 'date'?" Sybil put on a little pout, the sort that always seemed to work on winning both Edith and Mary over when they were children. Tom's pout was much better, but then his eyes always made him look like a giant puppy.

"Oh stop it," Edith groaned, rolling her eyes at Sybil's look. "Ugh, fine, fine, I'll go."

Sybil grinned, clapping her hands before throwing her arms around her sister and giving her a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Ugh, enough! I said I would do it, didn't I?"

Sybil laughed and nodded her head, before getting to her feet. "Come on; let's go and do something! I feel like celebrating."

"Can we wait until I'm finished with this chapter?" Edith asked, smiling and looking a little guilty, before attempting her own pouty lip.

"Wow, you _really are_ into that book, aren't you?" Sybil giggled. "Alright, yes, but just one more chapter," she shook her finger, trying to look stern.

"Yes, Prof. Crawley," Edith teased, poking her tongue out. "Just think of it as me, preparing myself, before being thrust into your world of literary scholars on Friday."

Sybil smiled at this. "You'll certainly have a great deal to talk about if you run into Dr. Strallan; he adores Mary Shelley, he could go on and on for hours about…her…work…alone…" her voice started to trail off as an idea suddenly dawned on her.

Dr. Strallan.

Edith.

He was single; and handsome, and very distinguished. Yes, he was older, a little more than twenty years, but…as a professor who was often surrounded by young twenty-somethings, he had a young spirit, and Edith always had "mature" tastes when it came to entertainment. She preferred touring museums and watching opera than clubbing or getting shitfaced at a pub. In fact, Edith's ideal evening was simply doing what Sybil had found her doing; cozying up with a good book and sipping tea.

And Dr. Strallan was the same way.

_Why not? They actually would…suit each other very well! He certainly would be a vast improvement compared to all the other wankers Edith had dated._

She glanced over her shoulder at her sister, who was turning another page of the book, her chin resting on her palm as she leaned over and read the words, completely lost in the story.

Yes…yes it could work; more than that, it would be perfect!

Sybil had to bite her lip to keep from squealing at the idea. Yes…she just needed to find a way to get them both to start talking, and then "conveniently" slip away…

Oh it was perfect. Absolutely perfect! Yes, her mind was rushing head as she began scheming of ways to get her favorite professor and her sister together. She was determined; by hook or by crook, Edith Crawley was going to find love at last…and in the arms of the dashing Dr. Anthony Strallan.

* * *

**_Coming Next..._**

_Sybil, the matchmaker, begins to work her magic as Edith finally meets Dr. Strallan...only much to Sybil's surprise, it turns out they met before!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Long time no see! Sorry about the delay; I haven't forgotten this story, I've just been bogged down with other projects, so updates may be a bit few and far between for a while, BUT DO NOT WORRY! I have every intention of finishing this story before 2013 is over, so just hang in there with me folks! Anyway, hopefully there is something in this chapter for everyone: plenty of cute Sybil/Tom goodiness, sisterly bonding, and Edith and Anthony REUNITING AT LAST! So I won't delay any further; LET'S GET TO IT! Thanks again for reading, following, and reviewing!_

* * *

_C__hapter Five_

The week went by in a blur.

After her successful teaching session on Monday morning, Sybil and Edith went out to celebrate by having lunch in one of the fancier cafes in town, followed by a brief shopping excursion. Since lunch had been a little more expensive than usual, they returned to the flat with a bottle of wine and two chocolate éclairs from a nearby bakery that Edith absolutely adored since moving to Oxford. Upon returning, there lay at the doorstep of their flat a bouquet of yellow and purple tulips, Sybil's favorite.

"I think I know who sent these," Edith giggled, scooping up the flowers and handing them to her sister, while retrieving the card that went with them.

Sybil blushed and hugged the flowers to her chest, and then quickly snatched the card out of Edith's fingers before her sister could read it. Edith simply laughed, opened the flat door, and then proceeded to search for wine glasses, as Sybil moved into hers and Tom's bedroom, to quickly read the card that had come with the flowers.

_My darling,  
I'm so proud of you and so happy to know that your class went well.  
I'm also happy to know that your talents are being recognized and valued by others.  
I wasn't lying when I said "future world renowned Oxford professor".  
You are extraordinary. And I'm so sorry I can't be there to celebrate with you in person.  
And I'm also sorry about this Friday. But please know I value your hard work.  
And love you with all my heart.  
—Tom_

"Sybil?" Edith called from the kitchen. "Everything alright?"

Sybil sucked in a shaky breath and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'll be right there!" she answered, taking several deep breaths to collect herself, while hugging the little card to her heart. She had to call him back and make things right.

And she did. Many hours later, when Edith had gone to bed to finish reading Frankenstein. She called him and thanked him for the flowers, and he sounded so happy that she liked them, and began to praise her again for how well things had gone, and then she burst into tears and began to apologize over and over for her behavior earlier, and Tom sounded horrified that she was crying, blaming himself, and soon it was an "apology battle", each one thinking they were awful for making the other feel bad, until finally such an emotional conversation could only end as such emotional conversations should: they began laughing. And by the time they finally murmured their goodnights, everything seemed right again.

Still…she missed him. Desperately.

Tuesday rolled around and Edith couldn't stop gushing about Frankenstein, which she had stayed up till half-past two in the morning to finish. "And you didn't have any nightmares?" Sybil joked as she made her sister a cup of coffee. Edith normally couldn't stand the stuff, but due to her late-night read-a-thon, she felt that she needed something a little stronger than her usual Twinings English Breakfast.

"I just can't get over how…how groundbreaking that must have been…" Edith explained. "A woman, a _young_ woman—writing a piece of literature like that! And not just from the perspective that it's a 'horror story', but the social commentary she was making at the scientific community! At humanity in general! The issues of ethics and morality—and how she challenges her audience to question 'who is the real monster'? It's fascinating!"

Sybil couldn't help but stare at her sister in stunned silence. Oh gracious, she and Dr. Strallan truly would be perfect together!

"Would you like me to recommend to you more books like that?" Sybil asked after Edith had taken a pause to sip her coffee.

"Actually…I think I think I might go with you to the library this afternoon," Edith announced.

Sybil's eyebrows rose at this. "Any particular reason?"

A smile curled at her sister's lips. "Just…I feel the desire to do some research of my own, you know?"

Now Sybil's eyebrows were practically touching her hairline. She remembered how Edith had moaned and complained back when she was a student about studying and researching. She was a decent student, but academia and anything related to it was not Edith's particular cup of tea. Still, who was she to argue? And besides, this was the first time since "the date from hell"—no, since she had moved in with her and Tom, that Edith not only seemed happy, but…excited! And Sybil would later thank Mary Shelley for inspiring her sister in such a way, because Edith informed her that she would stay at the library for a few more hours, which gave Sybil the opportunity to spend some much-needed "alone time" with her boyfriend, who was coming home that evening.

The pattern for Tom's work week over the past two months had been like this: leave early Monday morning for London, stay there until Tuesday night, come back and stay in Oxford until Thursday morning, and stay in London again until either very late Friday evening, or early Saturday morning. Or in the case of this week…Sunday.

No…Sybil didn't like this work schedule, but what was to be done? This was his dream, and she would not stand in the way of it, even if it sometimes broke her heart.

She was there to greet him when his train rolled in, and Tom smiled and engulfed her in a much needed bear hug, before pulling away only long enough so that his lips could find hers and share a long, deep kiss with her right there on the platform. When the need for air finally forced them to break apart, his fingers rose to her face, gently tucking the stray brown strands behind her ears, before murmuring, "Come on, Prof. Crawley; I'm taking you out for a belated and much deserved celebratory dinner."

But Sybil shook her head. "I just want to go home," she pleaded, tugging on his hands. "Please? We can grab take-away if you wish, but I just want to spend the evening with you, curled up in your arms, and preferably naked."

Tom's eyes widened slightly, but he swallowed and nodded his head, before leading her to the taxi bay and paying the driver a little extra to get them to their flat as fast as possible. It wasn't until sometime after ten that Edith got back from the library, and found her sister and her sister's boyfriend sitting on the floor of their living room, feeding each other Chinese food while watching and laughing at old episodes of _Father Ted_, Tom in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and Sybil in a bathrobe (and most likely nothing underneath it).

"Hi, Edith!" Tom called when she entered, his mouth somewhat full with noodles that Sybil had just fed him. If his voice hadn't hinted enough, the happy and rather goofy-looking grin on his face left little room for doubt as to what activities the both of them had been up to while she was doing her research. Sybil's grin mirrored his, and there was a healthy glowing blush on her cheek as well.

"Well at least you both had the decency to be dressed this time," Edith groaned, before catching her sister's eye and laughing at how red Sybil's face turned.

"Did you have a pleasant time at the library?" Sybil innocently asked.

"I did, actually," Edith answered as she put her things down. "Although I'm sure it could be argued that my evening was nowhere near as pleasant as yours."

Sybil's face reddened even further, and she began fussing with the food in her take-away box, her eyes doing everything they could to not glance up and catch the teasing smile on her sister's face.

"Actually, Sybil—may I borrow your laptop? Just for the evening?" She thought it was a pretty safe bet that her sister wouldn't be using it tonight, not with Tom there to distract her.

And she had been correct, because Sybil lifted her head and offered a pleasant smile and nod. "Of course! Although I'm rather curious as to why; does this have anything to do with your research?"

Edith nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she looked at the notebook she had just put down, recalling all the pages of notes she had taken while at the library, not to mention the photocopies from various scholarly works she had made, before stuffing them inside her notebook. "I just want to type my notes up, that's all," she explained, and then deciding to leave the lovers to their own devices, thanked Sybil again for the use of her computer, bid them both goodnight, and then took everything into her room, before quietly shutting the door and getting right to work.

On Wednesday, both Crawley sisters found themselves deep in concentration over their individual work projects. Edith had returned Sybil's laptop to her, after saving the project she had been working on to a flash-drive, and now Sybil was spending her Wednesday working on her thesis, while Tom worked on his own laptop, both of them sprawled out in the living room, Sybil on the couch, Tom sitting on the floor with his computer sitting on the small coffee table, both with piping hot mugs of some sort beverage, both wearing expressions of stern concentration, the light from the laptop screens being reflected back from the lenses of their reading glasses. Edith couldn't help but laugh at the sight, although there was a part of her that silently envied them both. Really, they were perfect together. Why couldn't she find something like that?

Edith returned to the library once again, and on a lab computer, finished the work she had started the previous night. She felt rather proud of herself and grinned back at the finished project…although now what? What was the point of this exercise? She made a face as the thought washed over her. She had been so excited about simply doing _something_, that it never really dawned on her as to what purpose that something was for.

She was shaken from these thoughts when she received a text from Tom, asking her to join him and Sybil for that celebratory dinner he had wanted to take Sybil on the previous night. Edith smiled and texted back that she would meet them at the restaurant, and in an hour the three of them were seated, enjoying their drinks while their orders were being prepared.

"You're becoming quite the scholar, Edith," her sister grinned.

Edith rolled her eyes. "I hardly think spending two days in a library is enough to call me that," she groaned. "Certainly not when compared to someone like you," she added. "I honestly don't know how you do it, Syb; I don't think I have the patience for writing something like that!"

Sybil couldn't help but laugh as she thought about her thesis. "Some days, I don't have the patience for it either," she confessed.

They both laughed and clinked their glasses together. Edith sighed after taking a sip. "I honestly don't know what I'm doing," she shook her head. "I just…after reading that book, and hearing you go on and on about women writers of that era," she said, looking pointedly at Sybil. "I just…I felt inspired, and wanted to learn more, and soon found myself writing my thoughts down and…oh I don't know," she shook her head again and took another sip of wine.

Tom, who had been sitting and listening, leaned forward a little, an idea clearly forming. "Why not have it published?"

Edith's eyes widened and she found herself coughing as her wine went down the wrong pipe. "You…you…" she patted her chest to ease her coughing. "You can't be serious!?"

"Why not?" Tom shrugged, clearly not seeing an issue.

"Publish to whom? And for what? I'm no academic; and while I did a little research about Mary Shelley and looked at various commentaries about the novel, it's really more my own thoughts and opinions than anything else."

Tom looked thoughtful, and then turned to Sybil. "Remember how I told you that Michael was 'agonizing' about what to do with the Sunday edition?"

Edith frowned. "Who's Michael?"

"My editor," Tom explained, before turning his attentions back to his girlfriend. Edith was still confused.

Sybil's eyes widened as she began to catch on to what her boyfriend was saying. "Do you think the paper would be interested in something like that?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Don't see why not? He said he wanted something 'unique and original' that other Sunday papers wouldn't have. Not to mention something 'educational and enlightening' that they could use as a means of proudly saying how 'superior' _The Guardian_ is to other news sources—"

"I'm sorry, _WHAT_ are we talking about?" Edith asked, getting rather irritated at her ignorance in this conversation.

Tom turned to face and explain. "The Sunday edition is in desperate need of some…'new and fresh' ideas, which really means, new special columns that tend to lean more towards arts and leisure, but that are intelligent and thought-provoking."

"In other words, little to no celebrity gossip or random pictures of big-breasted women like _The Sun_," Sybil added with a wink at her sister.

"Ok…" Edith nodded, although she was still frowning with confusion. "I still don't see how—"

"The research you did; your thoughts on Frankenstein and how Shelley's work not only changed literature as a whole, but gave voice to women writers, both then and now," Tom explained. "I think that would make for a fascinating column!"

Edith's brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. "You mean…you mean like a…a book review? Like a critic's column?"

"Something like that," Tom nodded. "Only instead of reviewing 'new books', you could review and talk about the historical and cultural impacts of famous classics, like Frankenstein or…Jane Austen, perhaps?"

Edith blushed. Oh Lord, did Tom know about her annual Austen-a-thon around Valentine's Day too? "But…but that sounds like something Sybil should do," Edith mumbled, shrinking slightly in her seat. "I mean…she's the scholar in the family, she's the one who knows far more than I do about these sorts of things, she should be the one—"

"When would I have the time?" Sybil laughed, reaching out and placing her hand atop Edith's. "Besides, they don't want another 'stuffy academic'," she shook her head. "I would make it sound like a term paper; but you—_you_ would make it sound modern and interesting!"

Edith gave her sister a look of doubt. "You haven't even read what I've written."

"I don't have to!" Sybil argued. "I know it's good! When we were younger, I remember how you wrote that 'scathing review' to that Johnny Lee Miller version of _Mansfield Park_, declaring that Jane Austen would be rolling her in grave if she were alive today and had seen what the director had done with one of her favorite novels."

Tom's eyebrows rose at this. "You wrote a letter to the director?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "She's exaggerating," she muttered. "My so-called 'scathing review' was to a website, which was met with various and colorful ways to tell someone to 'shut up!'."

"It was still good," Sybil muttered, sipping her own wine. "She was very passionate and had a great argument," she informed Tom.

Edith groaned and shook her head. "Putting that whole ridiculous memory aside, I still don't see why a newspaper like _The Guardian_, even for a 'fluffy' Sunday column, would care, let alone want, something as silly as my opinions about a famous book that's been talked about by countless critics and scholars through the ages."

"But that's just it!" Tom explained. "You're not a 'critic' or 'scholar', at least not in the professional sense. You're not another 'stuffy academic' like Sybil—no offense love."

"None taken," Sybil assured.

Tom smiled and looked into Edith's eyes. "Don't you see? You're a 'woman of the people'!"

Edith laughed. "Your socialism is showing, Tom."

He shrugged his shoulders. "But don't you see, Edith? _That_ is what will draw people in and make them appreciate your column! Someone who loves books, who loves reading and discussing books, who makes discoveries as a reader and who wants to learn more. _That_ is what will appeal to readers, I think."

Edith looked down at her wine glass, pursing her lips as she took in Tom's words. "You…you really think your editor would be interested in something like that?"

Tom grinned. "Only one way to find out!" he smiled, before adding, "But yes, actually; I think he will."

She was pensive for a moment, thinking about how much she had enjoyed reading, as well as how much she had enjoyed writing her thoughts down. Back before she had come to Oxford, Edith had been a part of a book club and she remembered how much she had always looked forward to those meetings, loving the discussions and the sharing of thoughts and opinions. In some ways…this would be just like that, the only difference would be that her thoughts and opinions on the matter would appear in print.

Oh God, in print! What would Papa say? What would Granny say? They had a hard enough time accepting that Sybil wanted to go into teaching. But what would they make of the idea of her being a…well, a "journalist" in a manner of speaking?

_You're getting ahead of yourself,_ she chastised. _Tom could show your writing to his editor and the man will think him mad for even making such a suggestion! And then poor Tom will find himself out of work and it will be all your fault—_

"I think it's wise that someone who isn't a biased friend or member of my family," she said, giving both Tom and Sybil pointed looks, "has a look at my work before I send anything to a newspaper."

"Fair enough," Tom held his hands up in surrender, but he was grinning broadly at her, glad that she was no longer fighting the possibility. "But can I still show Michael your work to give him an idea of what the column could be?"

Edith sighed. "I suppose," she mumbled, pulling out a copy she had printed of her thoughts and notes from the library's computer lab and handing it over to him.

"And in the meantime," Sybil added, smiling at her sister oh so innocently. "You can speak with Dr. Strallan on Friday night! He's the perfect person to talk to about these things; very helpful, I assure you, Edith."

Tom turned his head and looked at his girlfriend curiously, recognizing something…mischievous in her tone.

Edith gave a small shrug, but nodded her head, before lifting her wine glass to her friend and sister. "Well…here's to the potential of having not one, but TWO journalists in the family." She winked at the pair, both of whom blushed, but smiled at each other, before toasting with their own glasses. Their food arrived shortly after, and the conversation shifted to other topics.

On Thursday, Tom returned to London, but despite the longer-than-usual separation, Sybil's melancholy wasn't as great as she thought it would be. No doubt this was because she was very excited about the prospect of her sister meeting Dr. Strallan, whom she herself was meeting that afternoon to discuss her thesis.

Upon arriving at his office, she smiled and decided to "casually" start planting some seeds, by making mention that while she would still be bringing a guest to Friday evening's party, it would not be her boyfriend. "My sister, actually," Sybil explained. "I just wanted you to know, in case…well, in case the party organizers needed to know."

Dr. Strallan smiled and thanked her, although he was quick to add that it was unfortunate Mr. Branson wouldn't be able to join them, knowing that the man was a journalist and thought it would make for some very interesting conversation at what would no doubt be yet another stuffy party like all the previous years.

"And if you need to know her name," Sybil added. "It's Edith; Edith Crawley—same surname as myself," she watched as he scribbled the name down, wondering if he had caught on to her meaning.

"I'll be sure to pass this information on," he smiled, tucking the note next to his phone before making the motion that she sit down before they begin their discussion. Sybil did do just that, but kept biting her lip and wondering if there was anything else she should say. Should she mention that Edith was a new comer to the Mary Shelley fandom? Or that she might very possibly start appearing in print? And that she was in need of someone like himself to go over her work?

_No, no, stop pushing, stop prying; let things take their course!_

She focused on her thesis and pushed aside her matchmaking thoughts…until Friday evening.

"I don't know…" Edith mumbled as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

"You look great!" Sybil grinned, coming up behind her and resting her chin on her sister's shoulder.

Edith made a face. "You don't think the skirt is too…short?"

Now Sybil was the one who made the face. "It's not even mid-thigh, just a few inches above your knees! Besides, you're wearing black leggings beneath it, very modest while at the same time very sexy."

"Sexy?" Edith asked, turning her head to look at her sister questioningly, but Sybil was already looking for a belt to go around the dress to better flatter Edith's slim figure. The dress was one of Sybil's, which actually stopped at the knee for her, but because Edith was a few inches taller, naturally the length differed. Also, Sybil's hips were a bit wider, so to fit the dress to Edith's figure, she began to wrap bright red belt around her sister's waist.

"There," she grinned, admiring her handiwork. "Nothing like a little pop of color; isn't that what the _What Not to Wear_ ladies are always saying?" she giggled.

"I still don't see what was wrong with the dresses I had," Edith muttered, glancing at the few she had hanging in the nearby closet, including the infamous peach one she had worn last Friday evening.

"Nothing was 'wrong' with them; I just always thought you looked especially nice in this dress," Sybil explained as she dug out a pair of shoes for herself to wear.

Edith sighed and examined herself one last time in the mirror, running her hands over the skirt and down her hips and thighs. "Alright," she said, slipping on a pair of red pumps that matched the red belt Sybil had found for her. "Are you ready, Prof. Crawley?"

Sybil laughed and rolled her eyes, before looping her arm with her sister. "Let's go!" she grinned, nibbling her bottom lip as they descended the stairs and quickly hailed a cab to take them to the famous pub known for being the favorite "watering hole" of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

"Don't go abandoning me once we're inside," Edith warned Sybil as their cab pulled up to _The Eagle and Child_. "I know and understand that this is a big thing for you, not even being a doctorate student yet, and that you need to do your fair-share of 'schmoozing', but still…if I find myself standing in a corner, holding a gin and tonic all by myself, in the words of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, 'I will be most put out'."

Despite the warning, Sybil couldn't help but laugh. "You don't even like gin and tonics!"

"You're missing the point, Sybil!"

She giggled. "I promise you, I will not abandon you to your own devices…unless you find yourself in deep conversation with a handsome gentleman."

Edith snorted. "Not likely."

"Hey! Not all 'stuffy academics' are bad looking, you know," she poked her tongue out at Edith, before opening the pub door and encouraging her sister to step inside. "Besides…don't they say that it's always the quiet, nerdy ones who turn out to be tigers in the sack?"

"SYBIL!" Edith gasped, but before anything further could be said, they were inside the pub and being greeted by a tall, slender woman who was holding a checklist.

As Sybil gave the woman their names, Edith looked around the pub, taking in the crowd who were already gathered there. It was certainly safe to say that she and her sister were two of the younger people in the room. Most of the people gathered looked to be at least in their forties, if not older. Still, perhaps there was some merit to what Sybil had said; after all, before she married Matthew, Mary (who wasn't thirty yet at the time) had once dated Sir Richard Carlisle, and he was forty-three!_ Age, like one's appearance, is in the eye of the beholder_. Still, even if she were interested in any of the gentlemen present, she doubted that many of them were single.

"Shall we?" Sybil grinned, getting her sister's attention. "Mingle and meet n' greet and all that good stuff?"

Edith sighed and gave a small smile. She was much more introverted than either of her sisters, but knew that with Sybil by her side, it wouldn't be so bad. "Let's get some drinks first," she told her. "It is a pub, after all."

Sybil laughed and led the way to the bar to order them both two glasses of red wine. Edith stood a few feet away, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear and turning to look at a nearby wall, where a photograph of the two famous fantasy writers and Oxford academics was proudly displayed. She moved closer to examine the picture, wanting to see if the date was given at the bottom as to when it was taken, but just at that moment, a man who was talking and laughing with another shifted his weight and bumped into Edith, causing her to unexpectedly lose her balance and nearly fall onto her backside—had someone not caught her in time.

"OH!" she gasped, realizing how close of a call that had been.

"Oh gracious!" the man who had bumped her realized what had happened and began to offer every sort of apology under the sun. "Oh forgive me, Miss, I didn't see you, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Good thing you walked through that door just when you did, Anthony, old boy," the man gave a sheepish smile to her rescuer and Edith turned her head to get a look at him…and gasped as she stared back into a pair of startling…and familiar looking…blue eyes. The same eyes as the man who had "rescued" her a week ago.

"You…" she whispered, her eyes wide and full of surprise. And her cheeks suddenly feeling quite heated.

He stared down at her, and Edith swallowed; did he…did he remember her as well?

She just realized that in his effort to catch her, she was pressed against him rather…intimately, and his hands, which were gently gripping her arms, quickly righted her until she was standing upright once more on her own. His hands fell away then, and almost immediately, Edith missed the warmth they radiated.

He looked past Edith then, looking a little sheepish himself, and met the eyes of the man who continued to apologize, although Edith had ceased to pay attention to him anymore. "How many have you had this evening, Carl?"

The apologizer paused, and then gave a hearty chuckle to what her rescuer had said, before finally offering one last apology and moving away.

She remained where she stood, her cheeks bright and warm as she gazed back at him, still wondering if he remembered her, unsure if she should say something (after all, she had looked like a drowned rat at the time). But his eyes…and his face…were as kind as she remembered, and a gentle smile was lifting at the corners of his mouth as he gazed back at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of her sister, who was offering her one of the glasses of wine she had gone to retrieve for them.

"Oh wonderful!" Sybil grinned, realizing who was standing just across from her sister. "Edith, this is Dr. Strallan! Dr. Strallan, this is my sister, Edith!"

Edith's eyes widened and she looked at Sybil in surprise. THIS was Sybil's professor? The one she kept going on and on about? _Not that I blame her; I would go on and on if I had a professor like that—oh gracious, would you listen to yourself?_ She took a large gulp of wine.

The gentleman, her rescuer, Dr. Strallan, looked just as surprised by this introduction, however when his eyes met hers again, Edith felt her toes curl in her red pumps as he murmured to Sybil, "we've met before."

* * *

**_Coming Next..._**

_Edith and Anthony become better acquainted!_


End file.

Downton Abbey, Friendship, Romance