Downton Abbey Imagines and One Shots

Sybil Crawley- Dress (c)

"Bloody hell!" You exclaimed as you found the hole in your skirt.

You only had three dresses suitable for your nursing study but with one with a hole the size of a florin, you would need to figure out a way to pay for another. Seen as you were a student, you had very little money, getting cheap accommodation with the course and the ingredients for three meals, but as for any other essentials you could barely scrape by. The only other option was that you would have to patch up the dress as other women did.

Although needlework was an expected skill of women, you never got the knack of it, which was likely a bad thing seen as you had to sew up patients' wounds. Somehow it was easier to stich a wound than a patch on a dress.

"Are you okay?" Your roommate Sybil asked.

Sybil had come from Downton, having lived in the Abbey with her family, even holding the title of Lady. You were from different worlds but with how she treated you and how she lived alongside you, you'd doubt she had ever had a life of luxury, happily living as you and the others did without complaint.

"I was meant to be on the ward this afternoon, practicing my bandaging but my dress has a hole. I do hope a moth hasn't made a buffet out of my wardrobe," you frowned, flicking through the few garments in it hoping not to find another hole.

"May I have a look?" Sybil asked.

You handed her the dress that was damaged. Although they were all plain and modest dresses, they cost more due to only the nurses studying in this specific hospital needing to wear them. You had been a baker's daughter and saved up to come and get an education wanting to take part in the war effort as every woman here wanted, so you had no spare money to get something new for class.

"A simple patch should tidy that up," she smiled. "I have some fabric if you need some."

Offering her a sheepish smile, you tried to think of the best way to tell her without seeming stupid but there wasn't another way to put it.

"I've never been good with needlework. My mother tried to teach me, but I preferred being in the kitchen with my father baking," you said almost apologetically.

"It is okay. We all have our skills," she smiled. "Before deciding to come here, I had never cooked before, our cook had to teach me. Luckily my mother taught me embroidery when I was young, so patch work isn't an issue. May I help?"

You smiled at her, not knowing what you had done to make her be so nice to you.

"If you wouldn't mind," you said warmly.

"Of course not, let me get to it," she said, getting to work on your dress.

~*~

Written by Charlotte.