Readers, I had written about 90 percent of this about three weeks ago and then this pandemic took over the world. I hope you are safe, healthy and staying the heck home away from vulnerable people so we can introvert and science this virus out of existence. These are uncertain times, so I hope that if you need to take your mind off things, this update does the trick.

On her mother's insistence, Sybil had a proper nap upon her arrival and might have chosen to stay in bed the rest of the day and night had Mary not come into her room to let her know that Isobel would be joining the family for tea.

Isobel had been working at Downton Hospital alongside Dr. Clarkson since it had been converted into an Army hospital for the returning wounded, and Sybil was eager to get caught up before she began to work there. She'd be a nurse, of course, as she had been the last two years, but her experience in London, closer to the urgent cases and in a facility much larger and more complex gave her some expertise over the girls who were still coming in new or had not known much beyond the less complicated cases that had been sent to the country hospitals. There was also the fact that Downton Hospital served officers, not enlisted men. There was a camaraderie among the working class soldiers at her London hospital that she had come to value, even if she was an outsider to it, and that she knew would be missing among officers, men more likely to want to observe the decorum of her old life. Something she had not missed.

When Isobel arrived, she was, indeed, very happy to see Sybil and to discuss her role at the hospital. Cora politely suggested that Sybil might have a break of a week or two, perhaps even a month, before she jumped back in. Sybil, on the other hand, insisted she would start the next day, but in an effort to broker a comprise with Cora, whom Sybil knew would not relent in her efforts to bring her fully back into the routine of her family's life before the war, Isobel suggested five days' rest. Eventually, mother and daughter agreed.

After Cora moved off to the other end of the parlor, Sybil had a chance to speak to Isobel with a measure more privacy.

"So how has it been, really?" Sybil asked. "I just want a sense of what you've seen. It's difficult to forget what's going on in London, but stepping off the train here, it's not just as if I've traveled north but back in time."

Isobel sighed. "There are pockets where people can pretend things are as they always were, and I still see more healthy young men around than is to my liking."

"Why do you say that?"

"Service to king and country, however we may give it, should be everyone's priority now. Those who are able shouldn't wait for a call to put on the uniform."

Sybil looked down and took a sip of her tea. "I don't know," she said quietly. "This war has gone on so long now, and so many have given so much to it, I don't question those who hesitate to give more of themselves."

"It has been long, but endurance is a thing we British are good at."

"I suppose, though I do wish the cause of suffrage made greater strides before it all broke out. I have a feeling that things would be different if women could say more about it."

"One battle at a time," Isobel said, with a smile.

Sybil smiled back but realized how different from Isobel's her own opinions had evolved, when once she had looked upon Isobel as a model for activism among her set. Isobel's view remained loyal if not strictly to the crown, then at least to the idea that it was not theirs to question the order for boys—including ones she knew and loved—to fight an enemy that seemed to Sybil more abstract by the day. For Isobel and many among the suffragettes, service to country came first in a time of crisis. For still others, perhaps even Sybil herself, it was at critical times like these that women's voices were most important. It shouldn't have surprised Sybil that she had grown this much, but where else but at the place she called home could she compare who she was now to the girl who had left the place behind two years ago.

"On the whole," Isobel went on, taking Sybil out of her thoughts, "the village is contributing rather well to the war effort. The family, as well. I'm pleased to say."

Sybil smiled, more genuinely this time, knowing that such a compliment would not have have been given if Isobel truly felt it hadn't been earned. She knew her father had wanted to serve, not merely in the ceremonial capacity into which he had been slotted.

"I don't wish the madness of it on Downton," she said. "It's nice that the place can still offer comfort to those who need it. Why else would I have come back?" After glancing over to her mother, still engrossed in conversation with Mary and Carlisle, she added more quietly, "How is Mrs. Branson?"

"She's doing well. Missing Tom, of course. I told her you were coming back. I'm sure she'd love a visit from you."

"I'll be sure to pay it."

Just then, Edith came in looking like she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine. Carlisle, Cora and Mary all stood to greet her, and Sybil and Isobel did the same.

"It's so wonderful to see you," Edith said, pulling her younger sister into an embrace.

"Likewise," Sybil replied, hugging her tightly. "Marriage life continues to agree with you."

"One might think the country you are living in isn't in the middle of a war," Mary said, having come over to join them as Isobel stepped away.

Edith looked down, a bit self-consciously. "I told Anthony this coat was too extravagant, but he insisted."

"I'm sure he did," Mary replied.

Sybil shook her head, listening to their usual back-and-forth with some fondness, having not been privy to it in some time.

"Honestly, he's trying to appease me," Edith said. "He's managed to avoid returning to the Army at my insistence, but I fear his being called back into service is an inevitable thing now. He knows how much I dislike the idea, so . . . " Edith lifted up her hands helplessly. "He's showering me with gifts to try to distract me from my feelings about it."

"Well, on that point at least, I commend his effort," Mary said. "For that is as all husbands should do."

"Why would he be called back?" Sybil asked, hoping she didn't have to make a reference to his age, even though that's precisely what had her wondering.

"Having served with distinction before, His Majesty's Army is hoping he will do so again," Edith said. "They've been after him since the start of it, and if it weren't for me, I can only imagine he'd have gone back already."

"Don't talk too loudly of it in front of papa," Mary said. "He's not been shown that level of interest and has taken it as an insult. Poor mama is happy he won't be in harm's way, but not happy about the fact he won't stop going on about it."

"I can only imagine," Sybil said, laughing. Realizing she couldn't remember the last time she and her sisters had chatted together at home like this, Sybil took both of their hands. "It's so good to see you both."

Mary shook her head and smiled, not one for such displays, but agreeing with the sentiment nonetheless.

Edith sat down with her tea and the three continued catching up until nanny came down for little Lady Agnes' daily visit with the family. At almost two years of age, she could walk on her own but when given the chance to do so she immediately lunged for the breakable trinkets that decorated the areas of the house she was rarely given a chance to visit. Sybil was the first of her older sisters to offer to hold her.

"She's grown so much," Sybil said.

"At this stage of early childhood, every day brings with it a new milestone, milady," the nanny said with a smile.

"Quite right," Cora said, looking on fondly. "Isn't that true, my darling?"

Agnes, seemingly recognizing her mother's attention, happily babbled in response. After a few more minutes of bouncing on Sybil's lap, she lunged for the floor, and Sybil set her down to let her toddle about. Edith leaned over and beckoned her. Given that her momentum was already compelling her in that direction, Agnes almost fell into Edith's arms, causing everyone to laugh.

"I was thinking that it's too bad she won't have siblings closer to her age, but when you and Anthony start having children, they'll be quite close. A bit funny that she'll be of an age with her nieces and nephews, but life is what it is, isn't it?"

Edith's smile dimmed somewhat, which Sybil noticed. "It is," Edith said quietly. "I should really get going." Edith stood with Agnes in her arms, and the nanny stepped forward to take the baby in her arms.

Shortly thereafter, both Edith and Isobel took their leave, Carlisle as well, saying he would take a walk into town. Nanny took Agnes back to the nursery and Cora followed them out.

"Was there something odd in Edith's demeanor just now?" Sybil asked Mary.

"I always find Edith's demeanor odd," Mary said.

Sybil sighed. "I'm serious. I mentioned that her children would be contemporaries of Agnes and she got quiet. Has she said anything about that?"

"About having children? No, but you know she wouldn't confide in me about such things."

Sybil bit her lip. "Didn't you think it would have happened by now?"

"I don't know, Sybil, though I'd venture to guess it's not something we should ask. When Agnes was first born, she talked about it . . . having children of her own, that is, but she doesn't as much now. I imagine that there's no need to point out to her that more than enough time has passed since her wedding."

Sybil smiled at Mary's thoughtfulness, even to the sister she could not help but tease sometimes. "You're right. I'd suggest she seek out medical advice, if she thinks there's something irregular in the lack of children thus far, but it's advice that's most welcome then it's sought out, and if she hasn't yet she must have her reasons."

Everyone's departure, of course, gave Sybil the opening she'd been waiting for to ask Mary about Richard Carlisle, and she did not waste the opportunity.

"So?"

Mary sighed, knowing what what coming from Sybil's change in tone. "So, what?"

"So you invite a man who happens to be rich and unmarried to our house and want to act coy with me about it?"

"I met him at Rosamund's. We had an interesting conversation. He invited us both out to dinner at the Ritz. In my thank you note, I said he could come stay at Downton. And now, here he is. That's really the extent of it. Not a courtship, exactly, but . . . you're right. I suppose I can't deny that I haven't thought about it. He doesn't come off as terribly charming, but his stoicism suits me, if nothing else."

"Has Matthew fallen so far from your mind?" Sybil asked quietly.

Mary looked away and pursed her lips in a way that Sybil knew meant the question annoyed her. "Matthew is always on my mind."

Sybil put her hand on Mary's shoulder.

"I want him home safe," she added after a moment. "But he made his choice, and even after Agnes was born without altering his status as heir, he hasn't changed it."

"He only broke your engagement so as not to tie you down in case she was a boy."

"And now that we know she isn't?"

Sybil looked down, not knowing what to say.

"Honestly, darling, I'm fine," Mary said, looking back at Sybil. "Life interceded as it is wont to do, and he did and continues to do what he thinks is best. I can't be someone who just sits and waits. You know that's not my character."

"No," Sybil said, squeezing her sister's hand. "And it's a good thing. I'm sorry. I don't mean to badger you. I just want you to be happy."

"Are you?"

It was Sybil's turn to look away. "Under the current circumstances, as happy as I can be."

"Have you heard from Tom?"

Sybil nodded. "He writes."

"Does he write of ever returning?"

Sybil took a deep breath but did not answer.

"Do you ever write to him to ask if he's ever returning?"

"I can't ask him to do that."

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid of what his answer will be."

Sybil swilled and felt a tear well up in her eye.

It was a fear she had not yet articulated out loud. She had been so confident, when he left, that he did so on a circular path that would ultimately lead him back to her of its own accord, but the longer he stayed on it the farther away from her he got, and Sybil now wondered why Tom himself hadn't made the decision to turn back. And if she did ask, and if he did return without the thing he had been searching for—news of his brother's whereabouts—would he leave again? Would he resent her for asking him to leave the trail?

"Maybe right now what he's afraid of is that you haven't asked yet?"

Sybil looked at Mary, as her tear made its way down her cheek.

"Thank you for saying that."

"Don't lose faith, Sybil," Mary said. "If you do then for sure the rest of us are doomed."

Sybil laughed. She was so glad to have come home.

One week later

Sybil took a deep breath after stepping out of the hospital. I had been a long morning, but after two days at work, she was finally getting used to the rhythms of Downton Hospital. The pace was different from what she had been used to in London, alternating between quiet and grueling, but she was glad to be back in the thick of it. Now that she understood what work—real work—was, she had very little patience for idleness. This morning had been the hardest yet, and Isobel had insisted she take a break before what was likely to be a long afternoon. She hadn't brought lunch didn't feel up to walking all the way back to the house for luncheon or to deal with her mother's fussing.

However, after an argument with Dr. Clarkson about the hospital pushing men out before they had fully healed, not just physically but mentally, from the horrors of the war they were enduring, Sybil knew that a bit of time away to collect her thoughts was in order. She had encountered this problem in London as well. The numbers of injured men coming back and needing urgent care meant those who were already in the hospital and getting better needed to do so faster. They needed to convalesce but there was no room for them to do so. An idea was forming in her mind and as she walked away from the hospital, it became clearer in her mind.

After about a quarter of an hour of walking, Sybil realized she was very near Grantham House and decided to drop by to say hello to Claire. There likely wouldn't be time for them to talk for long, but she hadn't yet seen Tom's mother since coming back and though she had her reasons for staying away from a place she considered Tom's home, Sybil also didn't want Claire to think she didn't want to see her.

Moseley opened the door when she knocked and after a warm welcome, escorted her to the kitchen.

At first, Claire didn't bother turning around on hearing footsteps behind her as she looked over her stock pot. "Is that you, Mr. Moseley, I don't suppose you picked up the post today. It's been a month since I've had a letter from my son."

Moseley winked at Sybil and stepped out of the room to leave the two women alone.

"It's been just as long for me, I'm afraid," Sybil said quietly, and Claire gasped in response, recognizing her voice immediately and turning around to see her.

"My dear Lady Sybil!" Claire exclaimed. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Hello, Mrs. Branson," Sybil replied. "It's so wonderful to see you again." She hesitated for a moment, but she gave in to the urge and stepped in and took the older woman into an embrace. Claire held her tightly, feeling an immediate kinship with the person she knew had been missing Tom as dearly as she had during this now two year absence.

"Let's have a look at you," Claire said, finally stepping back.

Sybil still had her nursing cap on, so even though she had a light coat on, Claire could see that she was in her nursing uniform.

"Mrs. Crawley was very proud when you chose to join the nursing corps," Claire said quietly. "I was too. It's a wonderful thing to do at a time like this, and very important too."

"Thank you," Sybil said. "I'm just glad to be of use. You look very well."

"That's a generous assessment, but I'll accept the compliment."

"I imagine Mrs. Crawley is keeping you busy."

"Indeed, and poor Ivy is not much help these days with Alfred away with the Army now."

"Oh, I hadn't realized he'd enlisted."

"Only just. Got his papers a month ago, so he's not in harms way yet, but I suppose it's only a matter of time. God save the poor boy. He's a good lad."

Sybil nodded. "I'm sure my father will try to keep tabs on where he is."

"Shall I make us some tea?" Claire asked.

"No. I'd love it, but to be honest I'm still on my shift. I just needed a bit of air. I need to be getting back, but since I wandered so close to Grantham House, I thought I'd pop by and say hello."

"I'm glad you did."

Sybil bit her lip, and Claire sensed her hesitation despite her stated desire to go. "Has it really been a month since you've heard from Tom?"

Claire nodded. "It tends to be feast or famine with him and writing. One week, I'll get three letters and then it'll be a month before I see another."

"Has he said anything to you about coming back?"

Claire shook her head. "You?"

Sybil shook her head as well.

"Does he know you're back home?"

Sybil nodded this time. "At least, it was in the last letter I sent just before I left for home."

"And did you ask him to come back too?" Claire asked hopefully.

Sybil chuckled nervously. "I couldn't do that."

"And why ever not?"

"I know how important finding his brother is to him. I couldn't ask him to give it up." Sybil paused for a moment, then added. "And if I may be as honest as I've ever been with a person who is not my sister Mary, Mrs. Branson, I'm dreadfully scared of asking him only for him to refuse."

Claire smiled. "Oh, my lady, I think I know my son well enough to know that he would never refuse you anything."

Sybil looked down and smiled, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Even when it's been so long?"

"I'm speaking out of self-interest, of course, because I want to see him come back, but I do think you should ask him, if it's what you want. People who love one another should be honest above all things. And anyway, for all we know, he's just waiting on word from you."

Taking a deep breath, Sybil said, "I really should get going."

"I'll walk you out."

The two women continued to chit-chat as they made it through the house. As she opened the door, Claire said, "Well, don't be a stranger, my lady, now that you—"

Sybil came around her to the door. "Now that I what?"

But Claire was looking out the door. Sybil followed her gaze to a figure standing across the house's small yard, just in side the gate.

He was holding a suitcase and looked rumpled, like he hadn't slept in a few days. His hair was falling over his forehead and he looked as beautiful as he had the first day Sybil and laid eyes on him.

"Tom?" Sybil heard herself say.

He dropped the suitcase and in three steps collapsed into the arms of the two women who meant the most to him.

Tom Branson was home.