Sybbie of the Abbey: a fan fiction of Downton Abbey

That Night

(Narrative)

It was raining.

The drops were hitting the windows in a slight pattering sound; causing an eerie echo in the halls.

A disgruntled and cold owl hooted dolefully, as he puffed out his feathers in an attempt to keep off the chilly drops.

Apart from those little disturbances, the night was black and still about the estate of Downton Abbey. The house was silent upstairs, and there was a feeling of tension and waiting hanging heavily in the air.

I sat on my bed, whilst my younger cousin George tried to read a book. The light of the lamp next to his bed cast peculiar shadows on his blonde hair.

I fidgeted and stood up. I had been in my room for nearly an hour and could stand it no longer.

"What are you doing?" George asked in a whisper, getting up as well.

"I want to see what's going on; stay here."

"I want to come!" He said, raising his voice.

I hushed him and told him no.

"Why not!"

"Because I need to go downstairs, and Uncle Henry might not want you down there."

"Uncle Tom might not want you there either!" He shot back.

I tossed my head.

"Nonsense! Of course he wants me. Now stay here."

He huffed and fell backwards on his back upon the bed.

"Fine!" He said, looking at the ceiling, "I don't want to come anyway!"

I tried to raise my eyebrow at him, but the other one kept coming up as well. I let it rest and peeped through the door into the passageway.

It was deserted, so I went out; going around a pillar. I looked over the railing and across the gallery to the other side of the house.

All was empty and quiet; not even a servant in sight. There was only a faint light coming from beneath my step-mother's door.

I crept along the passage and down the stairs, making my way to the drawing room.

Our butler, Mr. Barrow, came out as I reached it.

"Miss Sybbie!" He exclaimed, "what are you doing out of bed?"

"I want to see Daddy," I answered, looking pleadingly up at him.

He hesitated for an instant, then chuckled. He could never refuse us children anything.

"Alright," he said, "but don't say I let you in."

I beamed at him and slipped through the door.

Almost whole family living at the estate was there. The only people who weren't, were my aunt Mary, who was upstairs, and her daughter Caroline, who was with Nanny.

My Aunt Isabel and her husband, Lord Dickie Merton, were sitting on a sofa near the cozy fireplace. They had come from Crawley house in the village.

Isabel isn't really my aunt, she was Aunt Mary's first husband, Matthew's, mother (George's Grandmama); but it's close enough.

My other aunt, Edith, and her husband weren't there because they didn't stay at Downton. Uncle Bertie is the Marquis of Hexham so they live at a differ estate. Her daughter, Marigold, and their son, Arthur were with them.

My granny, Lady Cora Grantham,was sitting on the other sofa next to Aunt Mary's husband, Henry Talbot. Donk stood next to her.

Donk is what I call my grandfather, Lord Robert Grantham. He used to play pin the tail on the donkey with us when we were little, and the name somehow stuck.