First of all, I would like to thank Scarletcourt for betaing my story. Without her wonderful and insightful comments, this chapter would be longer and not as good as it is.

I want to thank everyone that reviewed, especially those guest reviewers I was unable to reply to. So kitty, abbie, duchess, and the one unnamed guest, thank you. I'd also like to thank Welsh mama, who reviewed the story before she signed up and began to share her wonderful stories with us.

Please read and review, and don't be afraid to offer constructive criticism. I struggled with writing this chapter, so all feedback is welcomed.

Also, I wanted to let my readers know that after this chapter, I am putting "The First Year" on hiatus to focus on "In Her Best Interests."

Wednesday, 21 July 1920

Sybil stirred from her sleep shortly after dawn, her sleep disrupted by a noise. Turning her head towards the noise, she saw the most breathtaking sight. Tom was holding their daughter and singing softly to her.

I never envied those rich millionaires

Who sit around in their silk-covered chairs

Any old sofa with someone who cares

It would more than do

Just you and me and I'd want nothing more

Maybe a baby to play on the floor

I'd have a whole lot to be thankful for

If I had you

If I had you

To just be around when I'm blue

A "Four by Two" would be like a mansion on Fifth Avenue

I wouldn't change places with Carnegie!

And that goes for Rock'feller too!

They could keep all their troubles and "Automobubbles"

If I had you

She continued watching as Tom continued singing to Maggie. Before she realized she was doing it, Sybil chuckled, causing her husband to turn to look at her.

"How long have you been up?"

"Long enough to watch and listen to you with our little girl."

Tom's face reddened in embarrassment. "I hope I didn't wake you. She was fussing a bit, and I wanted to calm her down so you could sleep more."

"It's fine, darling. She's probably going to want to be fed soon."

Before Tom could reply, Maggie whimpered in response, before heading into full-blown crying. Tom was briefly panic-stricken until Sybil reached out her arms and said, "Bring her here. She's hungry. As I told you she would be."

Tom walked over to the bed and gave Maggie over to Sybil. While she held the baby, Tom helped her to sit up a little straighter. Once she was in a better position, Tom grabbed the pillow left in the room for Maggie to lay on while Sybil fed her. As soon as that was in place, Sybil opened the flap on her nursing gown so she could feed. It took a few minutes for Maggie to latch on, but once she did, their fussy little girl quieted down.

The little family sat in silence for several minutes, both parents watching their daughter eat. It was then that Sybil chuckled, shaking her head at some funny thought.

Tom couldn't help chuckling himself. "Why are you laughing?"

Sybil looked up at him and said, "I was just thinking that she's a true Branson – she quiets down when she gets food."

Laughing, he replied, "I can't argue with that."

"I wonder what she'll get from me and my family."

"Well, she already has your lips and your nose."

"I think it's too early to tell whose nose she has," Sybil said.

Tom tilted his head. "Perhaps."

"I hope she doesn't have my hair."

He shook his head, obviously disagreeing with her. "I love your hair. I want her to have it."

"Curly hair can be a nightmare, darling. Your sisters all have beautiful straight hair. It'll be easier to brush it if her locks are straight. Not to mention plaiting it or putting in pigtails. No, I'm hoping she has straight hair."

"Can I at least hope she has your hair color, love? You know how much I love it. It's beautiful."

Sybil smiled at her husband. "You can hope for whatever you want. I'm just hoping that she doesn't have curly hair."

Maggie pulled away from her mother's breast then. Tom helped Sybil fix her clothing. When he went to grab a cloth to burp their daughter, his wife stopped him and ordered him to give her the cloth so she could burp Maggie. Seeing the steely determination in her eyes, Tom chose to listen to his wife. Sybil was a little nervous, afraid that she would either pat Maggie's back too hard and hurt her or not pat her hard enough and cause her discomfort, but she knew she needed to learn to do this.

Sensing her nerves, Tom sat down on the chair and gently rubbed her leg with his hand. Her nerves easing at Tom's touch, Sybil put the cloth on her shoulder, brought Maggie to her shoulder and began gently patting her back. It took a little while, but eventually the little girl burped. Sybil then moved her daughter back into her arms, cradling the baby close to her heart. Noticing Maggie yawning, she began to hum a lullaby to her. Soon, the baby was sleeping.

Still looking at their daughter, Sybil softly said, "I can't believe we made her. She's so perfect and tiny. I just…"

"What, love?"

"I'm just in awe right now."

Tom smiled. "Me too."

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Sybil spoke out of the blue. "I hope she has my grandmama's quick thinking and her ear for music."

"I'm assuming you mean Martha."

"Yes. Grandmama never lets anything get her down and she's a fantastic problem solver. And her singing voice is so beautiful."

"Don't forget you have a beautiful singing voice."

Sybil eyed her husband. "Well, you're biased."

Tom chuckled. "Perhaps. But I see a lot of Martha in you."

"Thank you. So does mama. She told me in one of the letters we exchanged last fall."

"I know not to argue with my mother-in-law," he said, fighting back a grin.

She shook her head and was silent for a moment, thinking about a few things. "I hope Maggie inherits qualities from the Levinson side of my family. I do love my father and my sisters, and of course granny, but they don't react well to change."

"I'm not sure whether you should include Edith in there. She's starting to embrace and ask for change. She just lacks your confidence. Besides, having heard what I did when I was the chauffeur, I know more than anyone how little support Edith's received over the years."

"You have a soft spot for her," Sybil said.

Taking her hand, Tom said, "Well, my two favorite women are in this room. But yes, I do have a soft spot for Edith. What she needs is support as she carves out her own future."

Nothing more needed to be said, and they sat there holding hands and looking at their daughter for a while until Tom noticed Sybil's eyes were drooping. He got up and carefully picked up Maggie, returning her to her bassinette. When he turned back to Sybil, she was already back asleep. He returned to the chair, gently covered Sybil's hand with his, and shut his eyes, feeling the need to sleep himself.

It was a little after nine in the morning, and Isobel was enjoying a cup of tea in her sitting room when she heard a knock at the door. She arose from her floral-printed white chair and went to answer it. Upon opening it, she came face to face with a tired and disheveled Tom Branson.

She smiled and greeted him, opening the door fully to let him walk in. "Good morning, Tom. I was wondering when you would come over. I started to think you were never going to leave the hospital."

"Hello. I wasn't planning to stop by just yet, but I've been ordered by my wife to shave, change my clothes and eat something before I return to the hospital. Apparently, I was monopolizing the baby and she wanted to have some mother-daughter time with her."

"How is Sybil? And the baby?"

"Both of them are doing well. Sybil was nauseous for a bit after she woke up, but it eventually subsided. She's in pain right now and she has to stay in the hospital for about a week, but her blood pressure is returning to normal. As a precaution, she's being given an anti-convulsant until the threat of seizures passes. And the baby is absolutely perfect. I think she looks like Sybil."

"That's wonderful. Which do you want to do first: eat or clean up?"

"Bathe and shave. I kissed the baby goodbye and I got the impression from her cries that she did not like my stubble. I think it's best if I don't rush that. I can eat some toast quickly when I'm finished."

Smiling, Isobel replied, "Nonsense. Ethel and I can surely cook up something a bit more substantial for you than toast. We've got eggs, bacon, and I think there are sausages in the larder."

"Oh, please don't go through so much trouble for me. Toast will be fine. I want to return to the hospital as soon as possible."

However, Isobel wasn't going to back down. "Tom, you need to eat more than just some slices of toast. When was the last time you had a meal?"

Tom thought for a moment before answering. "Not since luncheon yesterday."

"Then you most certainly need more than toast." She paused to take in the young man standing before her. "I know you're still worried about Sybil and the baby, and that you want to be at the hospital to help and take care of them. But you're not going to be of any use to either of them if you collapse from hunger. Now you can argue with me all you like, but you are going to have a proper meal before you return to the hospital."

Tom chuckled, seeing quite a bit of Sybil in the older woman and realized arguing was going to be pointless. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, causing Isobel to chuckle herself.

"Well, at least you're a quicker learner than Matthew. Now, your clothes are pressed and hanging in Matthew's room, which is the second door on the right. Along with your clothes, Alfred packed your toiletries. Matthew left his shaving cup here when he moved to the big house, so you can use that. I think that covers everything. Oh, wait! Do you prefer coffee or tea?"

"Usually, I drink tea, but I think this is a coffee day."

"Didn't get much sleep?"

"No, the baby woke up every few hours."

"Welcome to parenthood."

"Thanks," Tom retorted.

With that, he began to climb the stairs, only to stop on the fourth step, and walk back down.

"Ethel? What happened to Mrs. Bird?"

"I was wondering when you were going to notice. I hired Ethel Parks a few days ago to work here. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bird refused to work with her and made it clear it was either her or Ethel. I chose Ethel."

"Why didn't Mrs. Bird want to work with Ethel?"

Isobel hesitated for a moment, before deciding to tell Tom the truth. "As you no doubt know, Ethel had a child. The father-"

"-was a bastard who didn't take responsibility for his child and then got himself killed at the Battle of Vittorio Veneto." He paused. "I'm sorry for interrupting and swearing."

She smiled. "It's fine. I appreciate the sentiment behind your words. In any case, she had a hard time finding work as an unwed mother and needing to feed her son, Ethel turned to...well, she began working in York's red-light district." Here Isobel stopped, afraid of the young man's reaction to this bit of news.

Tom sensed her fear. "If you think that would shock me, think again. I'm from the Northside of Dublin. I saw similar situations as I grew up. She did what she had to do for her son. I can understand that. Besides, it's not my place to judge. Though, I guess Mrs. Bird thought it was her place." He paused for a moment as Isobel nodded in assent. "May I ask what happened to her son? Only I know that he's about two years old and I don't hear a two year old boy anywhere?"

"Ethel decided to give him to Major Bryant's parents, feeling it was the best choice for his future. Mr. Bryant stipulated that there be no contact between her and Charlie. As she was only working as a prostitute to keep him clothed and fed, Ethel left that line of work and I gave her a job."

"I'm sorry to hear that she gave her son up. I understand what she was thinking, though I feel bad for that poor boy being raised by that man. It explains how the Major turned out the way he did."

"Indeed. Now, go upstairs and clean up. Remember, little Miss Branson doesn't like your stubble."

Chuckling, Tom turned and climbed the stairs, quickly finding Matthew's old bedroom. He quickly moved to the en suite bathroom, shut the door, and started the bath. While the hot water streamed into the tub, Tom removed his clothing, leaving on only his underwear as he went to grab a chair that was by the window and move it next to the bathtub. Next, he grabbed a towel, washcloth, and a bar of soap, placing them onto the chair. Seeing that the tub had just the right amount of water in it, Tom turned off the pipes. He quickly discarded his underwear and threw it on top of the clothing pile, before sinking into the hot water.

At the same time downstairs, Isobel entered the kitchen, finding Ethel sitting at the kitchen table. As soon as she saw the older woman enter the room, Ethel popped up.

"Good Morning, ma'am."

"Good morning, Ethel. Tom Branson just arrived from the hospital. He's upstairs cleaning up. I was wondering if you knew how to make eggs, bacon, or sausage. He hasn't had anything to eat since luncheon yesterday, and if I recall correctly from Sybil's letters, he can have a hearty appetite. I can make a pot of coffee for him."

"I'm not much of a cook, but I can make eggs, bacon, and sausage. Would he like toast as well?"

"Yes." She paused for a moment. "I hope you don't mind, but I told Tom about your situation."

Ethel looked down and asked a question. "And what did he say?"

"You have no need to worry, Ethel. The only judgmental words that he spoke were directed toward Major Bryant and his father. He apparently saw similar situations growing up."

The young woman smiled. "Mr. Branson was always nice when I worked at the house. He often kept to himself, but he was kind. So was Lady Sybil. How is she? And the baby?"

"According to Tom, they're both fine. Though his daughter is very much opposed to her father kissing her with stubble on his face. He was ordered out so mother and daughter could spend some time together."

"Does she have a name?"

Isobel began to laugh. "I completely forgot to ask."

Ethel began laughing at that as well. "Then we should ask Mr. Branson over breakfast."

"I agree. I don't expect him down for at least twenty minutes, so we've got some time."

With that, the two women went about making breakfast.

Back upstairs, Tom had just finished with his bath and was now building a lather in Matthew's old shaving cup. Once the lather was just how he liked it, Tom quickly applied it and carefully began to shave, taking care not to go too quickly, especially since he hadn't slept much the night before. As he shaved, he thought back to when he was a boy and how he would watch his father Francis shave on Sunday mornings before heading to church. It was their Sunday ritual, one which only stopped upon Francis Branson's death when Tom was thirteen. Since his death, Tom had thought of his father often, but more so in the last eighteen months. He couldn't help wondering what his father would have thought of Sybil and if he was proud of him. Today though, he wondered what his father would've thought of Maggie. Then an image of his father holding Maggie and fawning over her popped into his head, causing him to stop shaving as he collected himself.

While most men would be upset about having a daughter, Tom was thrilled. Of his siblings, he always got along better with his older sisters than his older brothers, especially his brother Kieran. And, he thought, after yesterday and the possibility that I could lose both Sybil and Maggie, I really don't care whether we have any more children. Maggie's more than I deserve.

Tom resumed shaving and finished a few minutes later. He quickly cleaned up the bathroom, before he moved into the bedroom to dress. Ten minutes later, Tom headed downstairs.

As he reached the bottom step, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon assaulted his senses. He took a deep breath, savoring the aroma. In response, his stomach let out a loud grumble, causing Tom to chuckle. I guess Mrs. Crawley was right about needing to eat.

He stepped down from the landing, turned right, and froze. Tom had no clue where the kitchen and dining room were. He had been in the house, and the kitchen specifically, when he was the family's chauffeur, but he had entered from the servant's entrance which led directly to the kitchen. Thankfully he was saved by Isobel coming out of one of the rooms.

"Oh there you are Tom. I was about to go up and check on you."

Tom let out a breath. "I fell asleep for a few minutes after I got into the bath. Then, when I was shaving, I was thinking over some things."

"Like what, if you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all. I was thinking about my father. He died when I was a thirteen, and I was wondering what he would think of Sybil and the baby."

Isobel nodded her head. "I'm sure he would have loved Sybil and would have adored his granddaughter."

"That's what my Ma said about Sybil after knowing her for three months. She couldn't believe that Sybil was an aristocrat after getting to know her."

"I sometimes forget that as well." She paused hearing a noise, and grinned when she realized it was Tom's stomach growling. "I think we need to get you fed. Ethel and I have made coffee, bacon, and sausages. We were waiting for you to come down to find out how you like your eggs and toast."

"Scrambled eggs will be fine and I usually lightly toast bread. But you didn't have to go through all of this trouble for me."

"It wasn't any trouble at all. Now, follow me into the kitchen. I thought it would be easier to eat in there." She then turned and walked down the hall, and Tom started to follow her. Soon they were in the kitchen and Isobel ushered him into a chair. Ethel came in from the pantry just after they arrived in the kitchen.

The young woman smiled at Tom. "Congratulations, Mr. Branson. I'm glad to hear that both Lady Sybil and your daughter are doing well."

"Thank you, Ethel."

"How would you like your eggs, Mr. Branson?"

Before Tom could speak, Isobel answered. "Scrambled. I'll make the toast and you can make the eggs."

Ethel nodded in response and both women went to work. Tom sat watching for a few minutes when he got the urge to get up and help. He quickly saw that the two women had everything under control and decided to stay out of the way. As he waited, Tom's thoughts drifted back to Sybil and Maggie in the hospital. When he left, Maggie was in his wife's arms and falling back asleep. He noticed that his daughter liked to be held and would snuggle closer to both Sybil and himself. Tom also observed how music calmed his daughter. I'm going to have to write Ma and ask her what she sang to us when we babies...

Tom was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize a cup of hot coffee and a plate filled with eggs, bacon, and sausage had been placed in front of him.

"Tom?" asked Isobel.

Coming out of his thoughts, he looked around and noticed the plate and cup. "I'm sorry. My mind drifted off. This looks delicious. Thank you both so much for this. Won't you both please sit down? I prefer not to eat by myself."

Ethel looked at Isobel for permission and she nodded her head. Both women poured themselves some coffee and sat down with Tom while he ate. Slowly, the three of them began to talk, eventually conversing easily. After about ten minutes, the question on both women's minds was asked.

"Have you chosen a name for your daughter yet?" asked Isobel.

Ethel looked up into Tom's face, eager to hear the answer.

"We have, but we're waiting until the family comes by later today to announce it. Though I will say that I think the Dowager will not like it."

"Then, it must be a good name," quipped Isobel.

The three of them chuckled. After a second helping of bacon and sausages, not to mention a second much needed cup of coffee, Tom was ready to return to the hospital and his family.

Standing up, he addressed both women. "Thank you for your kindness this morning." Tom then gave a nod to each woman and exited the house via the servant's entrance.

As Tom walked back to the hospital, he passed in front of Old Mr. Moseley's cottage. Mr. Moseley was outside, tending to his roses. He waved and greeted the young man.

"Hello Mr. Branson. I heard Lady Sybil is in the hospital. How is she? And the baby?"

Tom's face lit up at the mention of his wife and child. "She's much better. There was a complication, but she and the baby are wonderful."

Mr. Moseley smiled. "Boy or girl?"

"A beautiful baby girl who already has me wrapped around her little finger."

"Congratulations, Mr. Branson." He paused for a moment, smiling. "I remember when Lady Sybil was a little girl. Marched to her own drum even then. When she and her sisters would visit the Dowager Countess or come into the village with their governess, Lady Sybil would always escape and go exploring. Her exact words. We often found her hiding in the rose bushes. My late wife adored her. She would always make sure that we had biscuits in the house in case Lady Sybil stopped by. Most of the people around here feel the same way about her. I'm glad that she's recovering."

"Thank you, Mr. Moseley. For both your well wishes and for telling me about Sybil."

"Are you returning to the hospital?"

"Yes. I only left on my wife's orders. She wanted some special time with the baby and for me to get a bite to eat, amongst other things."

Mr. Moseley smiled, nodding his head. "Mr. Branson, can you give Lady Sybil and little Miss Branson my well wishes?" he asked.

"I will. Thank you."

"And I want to give them something." He looked down at his rose bush, and taking his shears, he quickly snipped at it. Looking back up, Mr. Moseley handed Tom two white roses. "And can you give these to them? One white rose for each."

Tom was touched by the gesture. "Thank you Mr. Moseley. I will. And I'll make sure my daughter knows you gave her her first gift."

The two men shook hands and parted.

Five minutes later, Tom arrived back at the hospital. He greeted the nurses and made a beeline for his wife's room. The door was slightly ajar, allowing Tom to hear Sybil singing to Maggie. He stood outside the door, listening to his wife's beautiful and husky voice.

Hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,

Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;

The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see,

They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.

Hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,

Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;

The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see,

They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.

Looking up, Sybil saw her husband standing at the door. She smiled at Tom and beckoned him in.

"I told you that you have a beautiful voice."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, darling."

"I'm truthfully telling you Sybil, you have a beautiful voice. If you didn't, our daughter would let you know. She made it quite clear this morning what she thought of my stubble."

Laughing, Sybil noticed the flowers in Tom's hands. "I see you come bearing gifts."

Tom beamed. "I do, but they're not from me. They're from Old Mr. Moseley. One for each of the Branson ladies. He also sends his well wishes to you both."

He placed the flowers on the table in the corner and then walked to the chair next to Sybil's bed, sitting down to watch her and Maggie.

"I wish you wouldn't call him Old Mr. Moseley."

"I only call him that when I'm trying to make clear which Mr. Moseley I'm talking about."

Sybil gave him a look asking Is that the best you could do?

"Fine. The Elder Mr. Moseley gave me the flowers to give to you two and sent his well wishes." He stopped for a moment, remembering the story he told Tom about Sybil as a child. "He also told me about how when you were a child visiting your grandmother or in the village with your governess, you would escape and go exploring, usually hiding in his rose bushes." He stopped for a moment to gauge Sybil's reaction and was rewarded by seeing her cheeks flush. "Apparently, you're his favorite Crawley sister, as well as the favorite of several of the people in the village. His wife always made sure to have biscuits in the house in case you stopped by."

Her cheeks now a dark shade of pink, Sybil said, "I can't believe he told you that."

"Why? I loved it! I thought it was adorable. Now I know to watch Maggie to make sure she doesn't go running off."

"You just said you thought my running off was adorable. Why is Maggie not allowed?"

"Because you're my wife and she's my daughter."

Sybil laughed. "Next you're going to tell me that she's not allowed to talk to boys until she's twenty."

"I was thinking thirty." He paused for a moment. "I know I sound ridiculous, but I can't help being protective of her after yesterday. Or you for that matter."

"Tom," she softly said, "we're both fine."

"I don't consider having an operation being fine, love. And you heard Dr. Clarkson last night. You could still get an infection. If something had…were…Sybil, that would completely shatter my heart."

Tom gripped her hand and fought back tears. Sybil just held his hand, knowing there wasn't much she could say right now that would comfort her husband.

After several minutes, she decided to change the topic. "I thought you would have been back sooner."

He snorted, though there were still some tears. "I thought so as well, but Isobel insisted that I have more than a couple of slices of toast for breakfast. My stomach agreed. I was fussed over by her and her new cook/maid. Eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast. And two cups of coffee."

Sybil gave Tom a questioning look. "New cook? What happened to Mrs. Bird?"

He hesitated for a moment. He knew Sybil wouldn't judge Ethel, but he didn't want to get her riled up about the injustice of Ethel's situation. However, they never kept anything from each other.

"Do you remember Ethel?"

"Yes. How could I forget?"

"Ethel was working in York's red-light district to take care of her son. However, she decided to give him to the Bryants to raise. As he was the only reason she was in that line of work, she left it. Isobel hired her, but Mrs. Bird refused to work with her, and made it an either or situation. And Isobel chose Ethel."

"Good for her. I'll have to thank both Cousin Isobel and Ethel for making a decent breakfast for you." She stopped, realizing something. "We shouldn't mention Ethel working for Cousin Isobel in front of papa. He'll explode-"

"-and the last thing we need is for him to upset you or Maggie, which I made clear to your mother last night."

Sybil looked at her husband, her brow furrowed with worry. "How did she take that?"

"She agreed with me."

Sybil's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Your father is not in your mother's good graces at the moment. Even after the successful surgery, your father still thought the caesarian was a mistake."

She opened her mouth and closed it three times, unsure of how to respond. Finally, Sybil said, "You and papa didn't get into a fight yesterday, did you?"

"I haven't spoken to your father since the library yesterday afternoon. Your mother told me this after you came out of the operating room. I had the nurse bring her here so she could see you for herself." He gave a small smile. "We actually got on quite well last night. She understood why I didn't want any of the family to see the baby before you did."

"She really understood?"

"Don't be too surprised. She's a mother and she told me she would feel the same way." He chuckled again. "She also told me to call her Cora."

Sybil's eyes welled up. She was overwhelmed by her emotions as they came crashing down on her. Her mother understanding the need to meet her daughter before the rest of the family, her acceptance of Tom as her husband, and her mother openly defying her father.

Tom was concerned by her tears and silence. "What's wrong, love?

She waved her hand. "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. I'm just…speechless."

Tom was about to say something when Dr. Clarkson and a nurse entered the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Branson, Mrs. Branson. How are you this morning?"

"Quite sore," answered Sybil.

"That is to be expected," the doctor said. "I'm going to examine you and check on your overall health. Then, I will need to examine the incision. Once that is done, Nurse James will give you a sponge bath. If I am satisfied with the state of your health after my examination, I will call your family and arrange a time for them to visit this afternoon."

Tom took the baby from Sybil as Dr. Clarkson began his examination. Once he had checked her heart, lungs, blood pressure and temperature, he told them his findings.

"I still need to examine the incision, but from my examination, I believe you're on the road to recovery. Your blood pressure, though still above normal, is much improved from yesterday. Most importantly, you do not have a fever, which could indicate infection. Now, I will need to examine the incision. Mr. Branson, I will need you to leave the room while I do this."

Tom nodded, handed a now sleeping Maggie to the nurse, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. For the next several minutes, he paced back and forth in front of the door, waiting for Dr. Clarkson to emerge from the room. Eventually, the doctor did leave.

"How is she?"

Dr. Clarkson gave Tom a kind smile. "She's doing very well, Mr. Branson. The nurse is getting ready to give her a sponge bath and change her dressing. Once she is finished, you can rejoin your family."

Tom nodded. He thought about how much he owed Dr. Clarkson. Without him, he might not have his family right now. Then Tom realized he had no money to pay for Sybil's medical care. He needed to speak to Dr. Clarkson about this now.

"Dr. Clarkson, I was wondering if we could talk briefly. In private."

Concerned, the doctor said, "Of course." He then led the young man to his office and directed him to a chair.

"What do you need to talk to me about, Mr. Branson?"

Tom fidgeted a bit. He hated not being able to pay. He had a solution, but he wasn't sure if Dr. Clarkson would agree to it.

"First, thank you for everything you've done for Sybil and the baby. Without you and Mrs. Crawley, I might not have my family right now."

Dr. Clarkson smiled warmly at Tom. "You're welcome, Mr. Branson. Though I couldn't stand by and let anything happen to Mrs. Branson and your daughter. 'Do no harm' is part of my code."

"Still, I'm grateful to you." He took a deep breath. "I also need to discuss with you paying for Sybil's operation and medical care."

Dr. Clarkson, unsure of where Tom was going, nodded his head for him to continue.

"As you more likely know, I don't have a job at the moment and I don't have the ability to pay you."

The doctor interjected. "I know the gossip I heard, but yes, I do know you are unemployed. I assumed that His Lordship would pay."

"He probably expects to pay as well," Tom said. "However, I would like to pay it. I thought I could work off my debt to you until it's paid or until I have a paying job. Then, I hoped we could arrange monthly payments."

Dr. Clarkson thought over Tom's proposal for a few minutes. Everyone in the County knew that Mr. Branson and Lord Grantham did not get along, and that was being generous.

"May I ask why you insist on working off your debt instead of using Lord Grantham's money?"

"Yes. The decision to have the caesarian was mine and Sybil's. My father-in-law didn't want to listen to you, and even after everything, still insisted that the operation wasn't necessary. And I'm a proud man. Some might say that I shouldn't be, that I should be grateful for any help I receive from my in-laws, and I am. However, I was also raised to pay my own way. I need to pay you back myself."

The older man nodded, understanding Tom and his thinking. "How do you propose to work off your debt?"

Tom smiled. "Not to boast, but I am good with my hands. If there is anything here or at your cottage that needs to be repaired, I can do it. Also, I can provide free maintenance on the hospital's ambulance. I think we all know I can fix a car."

Dr. Clarkson smiled. He had to give credit to the young man sitting before him. He didn't want to use his in-laws' money, but insisting on working off the debt himself. And still people in the county think he only married Sybil for her money. I never believed that and here he sits proving me right. Not to mention that he could joke about formerly being a chauffeur. He knew what his decision was.

"You have yourself a deal, Mr. Branson."

The two men shook hands, sealing their agreement.

However, before they could part, something occurred to Dr. Clarkson.

"Tom, what should I do if His Lordship inquires about paying?"

Tom thought this over for the moment. "I'm not sure. Do you think you could stall him? I would tell him myself, but he wouldn't understand."

"Perhaps you should ask Mr. Crawley for help with this matter."

"Good idea. Again, thank you so much."

Tom left the office and headed back to Sybil's room.

It was shortly before half past one in the afternoon when the Crawleys arrived at the hospital – Isobel arriving on foot, while the rest of the family were piled into Matthew's Roadster and the Rolls Royce. Dr. Clarkson was there to greet them.

"Good afternoon your Lordship and your Ladyship. You will be able to see your daughter and granddaughter shortly. Your granddaughter woke up hungry about fifteen minutes ago and Mrs. Branson-"

"-Lady Sybil, you mean," interrupted Robert, the ire evident in his voice.

"No, I mean Mrs. Branson. She told me that was what I should call her." Ignoring the look the earl was giving him, he picked up from where he was interrupted. "Mrs. Branson is feeding her. They both should be ready to see you shortly. A nurse will come and get you then. I'm limiting today's visit to a half hour. Mrs. Branson is still recovering from her operation and little Miss Branson, like all newborns, is a bit demanding. If she continues to improve, they both should be able to leave the hospital in two weeks. I have to go on my rounds. Enjoy your visit."

The good doctor then left to go on his rounds. The Crawleys were left in the waiting area. Violet and Isobel sat down on two of the chairs and began to chat while Mary, Matthew, and Edith were huddled together in a corner talking animatedly. Robert and Cora remained standing, the tension between them so thick it could be cut with a knife. Soon, Robert began pacing and mumbling under his breath. After a few minutes of this, Cora snapped at him.

"What is wrong now, Robert?"

The Earl stopped in his tracks and turned towards his wife, while the rest of the family turned their attention toward the bickering couple. "Mrs. Branson. It's not proper."

"That's what you're choosing to focus on. That our daughter has chosen not to use her title."

"He probably forced her to not use it."

Mary and Edith laughed loudly at their father's words. He turned towards them with a thunderous expression.

"What is so funny about what I said?"

Mary decided she would be the one to answer their father. "I'm sorry, papa, but when has Sybil ever let anyone tell her what to do. You should know better than anyone else that Sybil does what she wants."

Cora's patience with her husband was at the end of its tether. "Robert, I'm warning you not to upset Sybil when we go in to see her. Tom said he won't prevent you from seeing Sybil or our granddaughter, but he will tell you to leave if you upset her, and he has my full support."

Her husband stood there in shock. He was completely speechless. She decided to completely upend his world before he regained his composure.

"Since that is the case, I'm letting you know before you go into that room that I told Tom he could call me Cora." She saw Robert was going to interrupt with his own opinion. "I don't want to hear it, Robert. He is our son-in-law. Expecting him to call me Lady Grantham all the time was ridiculous. He and Sybil are married, and now they have a baby. I've accepted it, as has everyone else but you."

Violet, who had been watching the exchange, decided it was time to change the subject. "I wonder if they've named the baby yet."

Isobel perked up at Violet's statement. "Tom told me over breakfast that they have named the baby, but he wouldn't reveal the name. They were waiting for everyone to be together to announce it."

"Did he give any clue as to what it was?" asked Violet.

Isobel instantly decided not to tell the Dowager that Tom didn't think she would like the name. "No. He did mention his father to me, but I don't know what his name was and if it has a feminine version."

"It was Francis," said Matthew. "He told me that it was a name they were considering if they had a boy. I don't remember him saying they were considering it for a girl."

"Sybil did mention that they were considering Kathleen after Tom's mother," interjected Edith. "She also told me they both were opposed to Patrick or Patricia anywhere in the name."

"Were they not contemplating any Crawley family names?"

"We don't know granny. Sybil only revealed a few names on their list," responded Mary.

"Roberta is a nice name," Violet stated.

Cora couldn't help responding to Violet's statement. "I doubt that's a name they actually considered."

There was some tittering at Cora's response, which quickly died down when a nurse approached.

"Your Lordship, your Ladyship, I'm sorry you had to wait so long. There were some feeding issues with the baby, but that's to be expected at this stage. Please follow me."

The nurse turned and began walking down the corridor, quickly followed by the Crawleys. When they were outside Sybil's room, the nurse stopped and looked at the group.

"We usually don't allow such big groups in, but we made an exception for you. I will come by in half an hour to usher you out. Enjoy meeting your newest family member."

"Thank you," said Cora.

The nurse opened the door and let the family through. As they entered, Cora was met by a beautiful site: Sybil holding her daughter as Tom sat next to her holding her hand, both too absorbed in their child to notice their guests. They were broken from their reverie by the sound of the Dowager's walking stick banging on the floor.

"Good. We've got your attention."

Tom bolted up from his seat while Sybil rolled her eyes and said, "Hello, granny."

Acknowledging the Dowager, Tom offered her his seat. As she got settled, Sybil turned to her mother and broke into a smile. "Hello, mama. Would you like to meet your granddaughter?"

Cora nodded and walked over to Sybil's bed. She bent down a little as her youngest handed the little bundle over to her. Looking down at her sleeping granddaughter for the first time, Cora was brought to tears.

"Oh, she's so beautiful."

"Tom thinks she looks like me. I think it's still too early to tell."

"Well, she does have your lips, Sybil." She looked at her daughter, and gave her a smile. "But you're right that it's still too early to tell."

Cora gazed at her granddaughter for several minutes, rocking her gently. She desperately wanted to know her name.

"What did you two agree to name her?"

Sybil beamed and looked directly at Isobel. "Margaret Isobel Branson."

Everyone turned toward Isobel, who was visibly surprised at the news.

Tom answered the question lingering in the air. "We wanted to honor you for all you did for us. If you hadn't come to us and told us what was going on, we might not be celebrating today."

"Thank you," Isobel whispered. "I'm-I'm…speechless!"

The family laughed, though they were all wondering why Margaret was chosen as the baby's first name. It was Mary who decided to ask.

"Darling, I don't remember you mentioning Margaret when you told me some of the names you were thinking about. Was it on the list?"

"No, it wasn't. We went through our list of names quickly, but none of them suited her. It was Tom who thought of Margaret. Though I should let you know that we will be calling her Maggie."

"Why Margaret?" asked Cora.

Tom lightly blushed, nervous about how the family, especially Sybil's father, would react to the reason behind the name. Isobel noticed and remembered their conversation from yesterday. She smiled when she realized who Maggie was named after.

"As most of you know, I was praying the whole time while waiting yesterday. Obviously, I prayed to God, but I also prayed to St. Margaret of Antioch. She's the patron saint of women in childbirth and I thought who better to call on. When we eliminated the names on our list, I thought of Margaret as a way to say thank you."

Cora spoke before Robert could say anything. "I think that's a lovely reason, Tom. The name also suits my granddaughter." Turning to her husband, "Robert, come here and hold your granddaughter."

Robert obeyed his wife and went towards his wife. She gave him the little bundle in her arms and held her breath. While she believed her husband would love his granddaughter no matter what, there was still a tiny part of her that was worried.

Thankfully, Robert's reaction to his first grandchild was one of absolute adoration. He was fawning over her and smiling so broadly, Tom briefly wondered what came over him. Then he remembered a conversation they had with his mother after they returned from Mary's wedding. "No matter what he thinks of you or your marriage, he will absolutely adore his grandchild and spoil him or her to the fullest."

After holding her for a bit, Robert passed Maggie to Isobel, who was quite taken with her namesake. She soon turned the child over to her Aunt Mary and Uncle Matthew, who both delighted in the child.

All through being passed around, Maggie slept on. However, when she was handed to her Aunt Edith, she opened her eyes and looked right at her aunt. Edith was stunned by the eyes looking back at her.

"Oh, Tom! She has your eyes!"

"Are you sure?" asked Robert.

"Yes. I saw them enough when he was teaching me to drive."

Violet was the final family member to hold the baby. Like everyone else, she was absolutely taken with the child. After looking at her for a few minutes, and being graced with a look from her great-granddaughter, Violet gave the final review of the newest family member. "She is very beautiful. And Edith is right. She does have Tom's eyes. Congratulations to both of you."

Shortly thereafter, the nurse came to tell the Crawleys it was time to leave. They all left, except Cora, who stayed behind to give Sybil a hug and tell her that she would be back tomorrow morning.

Once she left, Tom, Sybil, and Maggie settled in together, enjoying their little family.