Sybbie of the Abbey: a fan fiction of Downton Abbey

The letter

Branson sat down across from his unconscious daughter, and began languidly reading Oscar Wilde, with half his mind on Sybbie.

He looked up as he heard footsteps coming near.

It was the new maid, Kate, holding a duster.

She was young, barely eighteen, and seemed extremely awkward; a strand of red-brown hair constantly fell out of her cap.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, taking a step back, "M-Mr. Branson! I didn't know you would be 'ere!"

He got up and smiled kindly at her.

"That's alright,"

"I-I'll just go now, sir,"

She backed out, attempting to curtsy and bumping into a pillar.

Branson suppressed a chuckle.

"Kate," he said, "wait one moment, please."

She stood up as straight as possible and looked at him nervously.

"I-I'm sorry sir!"

"What have you got to be sorry for?" He said gently, "you didn't know I was here."

He indicated his daughter in the chair, who the maid had missed in her distracted state.

"I just wanted to ask you if you could tell my wife, that Miss Sybbie has hurt her ankle, and is in the library."

Kate's eyes widened.

"Oh no! Is she OK?"

She stepped forwards to look at her, then froze, hoping desperately that she hadn't done something out-of-place.

Branson perceived her action.

"She's alright," he said, amused, "and you can see her if you'd like."

She moved slowly around the chair, casting frightened glances at the Irishman as she looked at Sybbie.

"Awe," she murmured compassionately, "poor dear."

Branson noted her caring look.

"Do you like children?" He asked.

"Oh yes!" She said, flushing and talking excitedly, "I 'ave two little brothers and a baby sister at 'ome."

"That's interesting. Have you worked as a maid before?" He asked casually; wishing to put her more at her ease. (He had seen her look in awe upon Lady Mary and was worried what would happen if she met Lord Grantham unawares).

"Oh, y-yes," she answered, stumbling over her words, "but she was an older lady and... and she, well, she wasn't nearly as grand as all this."

The maid indicated the library.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure," Branson said.

"I-I don't know about that sir," she said glumly.

"Sure you will," he said, "if you need any help, you could ask Lily; or even Mrs. Hughes, if you haven't already, she'll be happy to help."

"Oh!" Kate cried, "But she's so scary!"

She blanched with horror.

"B-beggin' your pardon sir."

He laughed outright at her description of the housekeeper.

"Mrs. Hughs! Scary?"

She nodded, her eyes wide.

He chortled.

"You should have seen Mr. Carson when he was the butler here! Whoi, he had all us servants tremblin' in our boots!" His voice softened, "Mrs. Hughes is kind t' everyone; she won't scold you for askin' fer help. Buut," he added, "whoi didn't you ask Lily for guidance?"