Separate rooms.

The light was just beginning to creep around the edge of the curtains to signal the start of the day. Sybil was waking slowly, loosened with the feeling of having slept truly deeply, stretching her legs to the far corners of her bed.

She knew every inch of it, the way one side was slightly depressed, the exact place that was the most comfortable. Looking around her room, still in deep shadow, the familiar silhouettes were strangely comforting. That was her scent bottle, her hairbrush she had used since aged 5, a present from her aunt, and the trinket box from an American relative.

Soon Anna would be gently knocking to get her ready for the day, dressed to go down to breakfast. Wondering what dress to choose for today, her eyes paused on the valise near the door, she was sure that's what it was, although the dim light made it hard to tell.

That's when the realisation hit her with full force. This had been her room. Had, not was. Slowly the events of the previous night returned, the delayed train and the empty platform. The long drive up to the darkened house, its inhabitents already asleep. Being helped out of the car by the new chauffeur... And walking into the house with the last occupant of that post. Tom, what must he be thinking right now? She had to go to him straight away.

It was undeniable. The light was creeping around the curtains. The idyllic sound of birds beginning their day faintly could be heard from the nearby wood. Morning was here.

His sleep had been minimal. The unfamiliar surroundings, sleeping in a strange bed and the silhouettes which didn't make sense making for a disturbed night. Even the light coming through the window jarred, his own room at home having no such bright outlook.

Arriving so late, Tom had realised the inevitable was delayed. Noone was there to greet them as they walked through the door, or, a truer reflection of how he felt, sneak through it. At the time he felt fate had been kind, now he was beginning to doubt it. Fate in his experience had a sense of humour if not irony. Still, at the time, he had been happy with the delay. After all, he thought with a smile, anything could happen between now and the looming morning breakfast.

He lay there, turning his mind to the options. Lord Grantham called away on urgent business, Lady Mary indisposed with a cold. The Dowager too busy fighting for one upmanship with Mrs Crawley. His own heart murmur heroically coming to the rescue, sending him to the hospital or even the heavens. Any number of things. Unfortunately it did not seem any of those things had happened and time was running out.

Of course they had discussed how separate rooms would be expected for their stay at Downton. It was the aristocrat way. It seemed rather pointless to him. After all, Sybil's growing bump was evidence, if any were needed, that they had had at least one night together. Still, it was another thing altogether for Lord Grantham to be confronted with the evidence in his own home. Had that urgent business taken him away yet?

Smiling wistfully, Tom felt a newfound appreciation for what Sybil had done to be with him. After all, spending her first night at his mother's house could have been no less daunting. Although his mother had,for the sake of her son, been polite to her prospective daughter in law, a more unlikely ending to his employment with the Crawley family was hard to imagine.

The reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt by the slow turn of the door knob. Swallowing deeply Tom prepared himself for Thomas to enter the room. It was the worst case scenario he had mentally steeled himself for. What a fraud he felt, lying there in the family's quarters, whilst those he had spent 8 years working with had already been up for several hours. How they must hate him. Or worse, consider him a joke. The former socialist now with a firm footing in the nobility, had he become what he despised by getting what he had so long desired?

Yet fate was to prove kind at least once more. Even in the dark, he knew immediately it was not a former colleague, but his wife. Fears put to one side as she strolled to the bed and they embraced, she held his face with both hands and gazed into his eyes. "I'm here" was all that she said and it was a wondrous echo of the past.