Sybbie of the Abbey: a fan fiction of Downton Abbey

Runaway

(Narrative)
My heart had been cut like a knife by Daddy's rough words. I had only wanted his attention!

Sobbing uncontrollably, my eyes burning with tears, I ran blindly along the passage to my room; flinging myself onto my bed and thanking the Lord that George was off somewhere else, playing after his supper.

At last I collected myself a bit and put on my nightgown, without help from Nanny; not wishing to find her and show her I was upset.

Picking Mousey up off my bed and hugging her, I turned out the light; slipping under my sheets and thinking of horrid things to say to Daddy when he would come in.

He didn't come in, however.

Nanny arrived with George to put him to bed, and auntie followed soon after to tell him goodnight; but I feigned unconsciousness and they left me alone. No Daddy entered that night, and I fell asleep with a broken bitterness in my heart.

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The next day, I woke with the same feeling in my chest and was quiet all throughout breakfast.

Nanny was worried and checked my temperature, but nothing was wrong with me. Not physically, that is.

It was about mid-morning when the idea first occurred to me, and it grew until, after dinner, it became a plan.

I was going to run away.

In the afternoon, George went off to see if Barrow would give him a piggyback ride and I leapt into action.

I decided that I was going to run off and live like Robbin Hood in a forrest somewhere where no one would ever find me.

I had originally thought of going to Ireland or America, but then I looked at my tiny stash of money and realised that I didn't have enough money to go to either. I only had a few shilling and a single large silver coin I had gotten from a pudding.

That was fine though, because I didn't much care for America (Daddy and I had moved there for a while) and Ireland seemed like a rather scary place, full of revolutionists, rough British soldiers, and rotten potatoes. No place for a young girl with no Daddy.

I snuck up to my room, and took the pack I used for day-trips out from under my bed.

Placing it on the floor, I threw into it, my coat and the tiny threadbare blanket on the end my bed. Then, I reached under my mattress and took out my money pouch; pushing it under the other items. I looked about me; stumped for what else to put in, until I thought I might as well have some food for the journey.

Sliding the pack back under my bed, I slipped out of the room; going down the servant's staircase. Barrow wasn't about, and the servant's hall was mostly empty.

I looked around the corner to the kitchen. It was late in the day, so the cook, Mrs. Patmore, and the undercook, Daisy Parker, were preparing for the evening meal. I wasn't aftraid of the red-haired old cook; she often let us children lick the bowls after she made a desert.

I bounced into the kitchen; trying to look care-free as I beamed at them.

Daisy looked up from the stove where she was stirring some delicious-smelling substance.

"Miss Sybbie! What are y' doin' down 'ere?"

I gave her a sweet look.