Tom Branson knew a lot about life.

He knew of politics and history, and the issues of the world. Of the problems in Ireland and America and Russia or any country really, he liked being informed.

He knew of the great divide in social classes. That while some families barely had enough food to even feed a rat, some Lord's had three turkeys on their dining table and would barely touch them.

He knew of fighting, of war, and being treated like a second class citizen. For as long as he could remember his country had been at war with the oppressors, the British Empire.

He knew of hate and anger. Of men shouting insults at each other; of being hated and hating others.

But his life was not merely filled of politics or sad memories, of hostile things that only made you bitter. His life was also filled with happy thoughts and good memories.

He knew of family. Of afternoons playing with his brothers or sitting on his ma's lap while she taught him the language of his people.

He knew of good company. Of meals laughing with friends both back in Ireland and here at Downton.

Of nights spend filled with good books, books so wonderful and awe inspiring that before he knew it the sun had risen and he hadn't slept a wink.

He knew of rallies; of crowds calling for reforms for the future. For change and for hope in a better, more equal world. Of change.

He knew of long drives through the countryside with a young woman, a Lady. Those drives that took twice as long as they should, with both parties pretending not to

notice.

Of afternoons spent scanning his Lordship's library for a particular book, pretending he didn't already know where it was. Hoping beyond hope that his Lordship's youngest daughter would appear.

He knew the sound of that raspy lyrical voice anywhere. He could point it out over the noise of a crowd with his eyes closed.

He knew how to cheer her up. What to say to make her laugh or smile even in her darkest moment.

He knew that when he saw her face his heart beat grew just that much faster and that he longed to see her as soon as she left.

He knew that he relished the moment when he helped her out of the car. Of the moment she placed her dainty little hand in his.

He knew when he got homesick, when he missed Ireland or his family she was the only thing that could made him feel better.

He just didn't know what it all meant. These feelings he was having. The uncertainty, the excitement, the anxiousness, the unnerving swell in his chest, and the nerves that made his hands sweat. The strange fluttering feeling he would get every time he saw her, that made his heart feel like it was going to burst at any second.

Or at least, he pretended he didn't.