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You’ve done well. And Lady Sybil would be so proud. Mrs. Hughes had said as she had tried to comfort Tom in the library. When she had departed Tom sat for some time on the red couch as he dried his eyes and tried to compose himself.
Tom knew she meant well. Knew that it might even seem that way on the outside to others. But he hadn’t done anything except be at Downton when Sybil had died. Be at Downton because he’d messed up and gotten himself exiled from his home. Be at Downton because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Tom knew too, that if Sybbie weren’t part of the picture, he’d not be here at all.
But now he was the land agent. A fine and secure job and he was sure that to the others he’d worked with only two years ago it seemed like he’d really had a step up in the world. Tom supposed he had had a step up in the world. But only because the Crawley’s were afraid he’d leave and take Sybbie with him. Perhaps they were warming to him now. Maybe they’d even see him as part of the family eventually, but Tom was under no delusions that he’d done any of this himself.
Climbing the stairs to the nursery, Tom looked in on Sybbie. It was her naptime and she was sleeping soundly. Quietly, Tom took a seat in the rocking chair near Sybbie’s cot and just sat near her. He wanted to believe Mrs. Hughes. He wanted to think that Sybil would be proud of him. He’d stayed at Downton with Sybbie like she would have wanted. He’d even stayed in the house instead of moving to the land agents cottage so Sybbie could be around her aunts and uncle and grandparents. When he’d married Sybil he’d thought he alone was enough for her. That whatever they did, as long as they were together, things would be fine. Now, he thought he’d been foolish. Idealistic maybe. Perhaps he’d read too many novels.
Sybil had never complained about the politics or the discomforts. That wasn’t her and she wasn’t a complainer even if life in a tiny Dublin flat with no electricity or indoor plumbing was a far cry from the life she’d been used to at Downton. But in the last few months before her death a sort of discontent had begun to creep in. Sybil seemed to think Tom was better than he was. She constantly worried about him going back. She hadn't wanted him to work with cars again. She'd seemed to think he would be able to rise above it all and turn into a real middle-class sort of person and she'd kept pushing him in that direction.
Tom had plenty of ambition, that was true enough. Especially in Ireland he had thought there was a real chance for him to make a difference and ride the wave of revolution into a new place in life. But he never thought about hard work or working with his hands as going back. He was proud of the work he’d done and had always done a good job. The workers of the world were what made economies, not the middle-class or worse, the owner-class. Maybe, if Sybil had lived long enough she’d have seen that there was no shame in a hard day's work. She was politically far more progressive than many of her background, but she hadn’t been a true socialist.
Tom gazed at his sleeping daughter. It was hard to think of himself as a true socialist anymore. Sitting here in a rich estate owned by his wife’s family where he got handed a job with no true qualifications just because they were trying to convince him to stay put. If someone had suggested this would be his life eighteen months ago he would have laughed. Would Sybil be proud of him now? Now that he had a proper middle-class job with suits and an office and never needing to dirty his own hands? He wasn’t sure.
And what about Sybbie? Would Sybil be proud of him for staying put and allowing their darling daughter to grow up in the same house Sybil herself had? Would she be pleased the girl would grow up English? Would she be happy for the Downton nurses and nannies to raise their baby like she had been? Tom didn’t know. He wasn't entirely happy with the whole situation himself. It was a far cry from what he'd imagined for his child when Sybil had told him she was expecting. He hoped if Sybil could see him from wherever she was she’d understand. But he wouldn’t go so far as to think she was proud.
Then there was Edna. Tom didn’t know what to think about any of that. Edna was forward and clearly interested and part of Tom admired her for that. Far be it from him to admonish someone for falling in love with a person of the wrong social position. But the whole thing had felt wrong from the outset. When she’d flirted at the fair or stolen that kiss, part of Tom liked it. It reminded him just a bit that he was still alive and maybe he could be happy again. A bigger part of him, however, the one overflowing with the grief that sent him into tears late at night as he tried to sleep, despised the first part.
You are unfaithful, is what he heard in his thoughts. You are cheating. How dare Tom think about being happy with anyone else ever again. Sybil would be so disappointed. She’d given up so much for love of him, and here he was entertaining the notion of a new love. He couldn’t even manage to grieve her properly. Hadn't Sybil always been the only one for him? Didn’t he love her?
Tom did love her, and that’s what made everything so hard. If he was attracted to Edna, or anyone else for that matter, he was betraying Sybil for even thinking about it, wasn’t he? And he didn’t want to betray her love. Love of him had cost her everything, including her life. And if her ghost still haunted Downton’s halls what might she think of him now? Surly she didn’t want him to move on, surely she was watching his every move with jealousy. At least he hoped.
He hoped that wherever Sybil was, that she was still jealous over him. That when Edna had stolen that kiss, Sybil had gone into a fury. Because that would mean she still loved him. That would mean she wasn’t angry at him for everything he’d done, all that he’d put her through and taken away from her. If she still loved him he might one day get forgiveness.
Sybbie started to blink as she woke from her nap. Seeing her dad, the girl smiled. Standing, Tom lifted her from her cot and sat down again, settling her in his arms. “Daddy’s got you,” Tom said softly.
“Dada,” Sybbie responded.
Tom started to rock gently. Sybbie, only half awake, began to settle back into sleep. No, Tom was not sure at all that Sybil would be proud of him. He wasn’t sure she’d ever been proud of him. He’d disappointed her in so many ways and then she'd died before he could prove his worth. Now there was Sybbie. He hoped he wouldn’t end up disappointing her too.