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“Did you know anything about this?” Cora demanded as soon as O’Brien entered her ladyship’s room with her morning tray. “Because I will not be happy if you have been withholding a secret of this magnitude from me.”
O’Brien shook her head. “No, m’lady. It’s come as a complete shock to all of us, I never had a clue.” O'Brien hadn’t even suspected. She’d never been this out of the loop before, it rankled her down to her toes.
“But how could you not have?” Cora insisted. “Certainly there were signs, something said, a look or, well, anything?” Cora’s disbelief and shock were still stamped all over her face despite it being the next morning.
It vexed O'Brien to be pressed so, her ladyship ought to just believe her the first time. She supposed, however, that perhaps her ladyship had a right to be flustered over the whole matter. It was shocking that Branson had been carrying on a secret romance with Sybil behind everyone’s backs.
“I swear I never knew anything about it, not even a hint. That Irishman is a sly one all right.” O'Brien was honestly furious with the chauffeur. Not only had he managed to carry off the whole thing without her knowing, what he’d done had upset Lady Grantham as well. And didn’t Cora have enough to deal with without her youngest daughter throwing her life away on a servant?
“I can’t believe this has been going on for so long and none of us knew.” Cora just sat in disbelief, not even touching her food. “What kind of mother am I to be so ignorant?”
“You’re a fine mother, your ladyship. It’s that Irishman who’s the problem.” O'Brien just wished he hadn’t already left the premises. She would love to have a chance of revenge on him. She’d never cared for Branson, he was always too comfortable running his mouth. He was too friendly, too. There was something unnatural about an easygoing man with so many opinions.
“To think he’s been driving me around all this time and I never even suspected.” Cora gazed unseeing at the toast in front of her. “Do you really believe that they haven’t been carrying on together?”
There was almost nothing off-limits between O'Brien and Cora, but O'Brien always knew this sort of thing had to be played carefully. You didn’t want to impugn the honor of one of the household even if doing so might help get one of the staff in trouble. “I’m sure Lady Sybil has shown proper discretion. Though, I would never trust that Irishman to act like a gentleman.” O'Brien busied herself with getting out her ladyship’s clothes for the day.
Cora took her tea cup, then set it down again. “I wish I could be sure. I’m worried Sybil has some romantic notions in her head about true love and what it means to give yourself to someone. I don’t want her to think that just because something unfortunate happened, maybe in a moment of passion, that means she has to marry him.”
O'Brien wasn’t sure either way. Branson was handsome enough, and arrogant enough to think he was good enough to end up with an earl’s daughter, but he wasn’t much of skirt chaser. In the time he’d worked at Downton she couldn’t ever remember him making eyes or moves on the girls downstairs. Branson wouldn’t have had any trouble getting a girl to bed if he wanted to, but he’d never really been that type. Of course, there was always the possibility that this whole indiscretion had started far longer ago than O'Brien wanted to think, but she wasn’t about to bring that up to her ladyship.
O'Brien wasn’t quite sure how to proceed with the conversation. She wanted to encourage Cora that Sybil was always sensible and there was no reason to worry, but clearly there was, because a lady marrying Branson was one of the least sensible things O'Brien had ever heard. Instead, she chose to denigrate the chauffeur. “Any fault for the matter lays with Branson entirely. He’s always had strange notions and wanting to get above his station. It was embarrassing to hear him talk in the servant’s hall.”
“What do you know of Branson?” Cora suddenly looked up at O'Brien. “Do you know what sort of man he is, what his character is like?”
O'Brien knew she had to choose her words carefully now. Normally she would have loved a chance to slander Branson and even make up a few things to emphasize how unsuitable he was, but that wouldn’t do here. Cora was already against the match and if it were to proceed anyway it would hardly do to have her ladyship worrying about Sybil’s safety. O'Brien would have loved to tell Cora that Branson drank and gambled and visited prostitutes and was planning to bomb parliament, but that would only lead Lady Grantham to despair should the marriage happen.
“To tell the truth, I’ve never liked him,” said O'Brien, which was true. “He always seemed to be looking for trouble and he always acted like he was so much better than us.” O'Brien waited to see how Cora responded.
“I’ve never been so worried about one of my daughters before.” Cora finally picked up the tray and moved it off to the side. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she sat on the edge, staring at the floor. “What if he’s some horrible monster and she ends up trapped with no way out?”
O'Brien wanted to reassure Cora without sounding like she approved of anything. “Lady Sybil’s a smart girl, I’m sure if there was any hint of something dangerous she would run back here immediately. Besides, she may not even go through with it. She’s still quite young, she may rethink it all now that everyone’s pointed out how foolish it all is. It’s easier to be romantic about things when the thoughts are just in your head.”
Cora stood up. “Oh, I hope you’re right. I’m so scared for her, O'Brien. She knows nothing of the world and has clearly been swept off her feet. Robert and I tried talking to her last night, but it was no good. She just got upset and wouldn’t listen.”
O'Brien came to her ladyship’s side. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
Cora shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly. Not when I’m facing my daughter running away in a cloud of scandal. I can’t even bear the thought of food.”
O'Brien knew it was more than the scandal of it all that was upsetting Lady Grantham. If that little Irishman were here she’d gleefully wrong his neck for all the distress he was causing the household. Moving to the bedside, O'Brien took the cup of tea off the tray. “Maybe just a little of your tea, just to settle your nerves,” O'Brien pushed gently. She didn’t like it when her ladyship didn’t eat properly.
Cora took the cup O'Brien offered and sipped at the tea a little. “Thank you, O'Brien. You always take such good care of me.”
“You need someone to look after you, your ladyship, after the shock you’ve had.” O'Brien was even now trying to think of some way she could make things right and get rid of Branson. She didn’t really know how to shoot, and killing him outright wasn’t quite her style, but she had to get things back to how they ought to be. For Cora’s sake.
“It has been a shock,” said Cora as she handed O'Brien the cup back. “I never in a million years thought Sybil would do something like this to me. She’s always behaved so sensibly before.” Cora took in a breath. “Of course, except when it came to politics, like that time with the by-election.”
“It seems that Branson was having a bad influence even then,” O'Brien couldn’t help but chip in. At the time, she’d believed Branson when he’d said he didn’t know anything about it and that Sybil had lied to him. Now she was inclined to believe he’d cooked up the whole thing and the girl had covered for him out of some sort of love or loyalty. O'Brien was beginning to be certain that the two of them must have been sleeping together, maybe even for some time, if they were sharing so much conspiracy for so many years.
“All these signs staring me in the face and I just didn’t see,” Cora lamented. “I’m a gullible fool and have been fooled by my own chauffeur for years now. If only I’d seen it sooner, I could have saved Sybil from this whole mess.”
O'Brien wasn’t sure what it was exactly she was going to do to Branson but she’d find a way to make him pay for what he’d done. And if she was lucky, she might be able to get rid of him before any wedding could happen. Of course, she couldn’t involve the police for that would engulf the house in scandal, but there were other things she could do. Things that she would do. It would take an act of God to keep her from eliminating that socialist nuisance. “It’s not your fault, m’lady,” said O'Brien as she picked up the clothes Cora was going to wear that day. “It’s that sneaky little Irishman. He had us all fooled.”