Sybbie of the Abbey: a fan fiction of Downton Abbey

The Result

(Narrative)
I was not in the mood for Christmas preparations that year. I believe that most of the family and servants felt the same way, but nevertheless, they had people coming to Downton and they needed to put on a show.

I was close to being ill those nest nine days until Christmas. I barely slept, for when I did, I often had terrible dreams. Even when Donk and my uncles sorted out many of the confusing details about Daddy's arrest, I was still agitated. I didn't understand all the formalities and complications involved in getting my father out of prison; I only knew that he was gone and upset and all alone.

I wrote Daddy a letter every day as I had promised him, and I tried to make them as full of hope and love as possible with my limited expositional experience. Mummy sent them by wire to Ireland to make the journey faster.

My days were dull and full of worry, but my nights were worse. I was fretful and my sleep was fitful and occasionally even feverish. I mainly stayed in the small library during the day, and in my room at night, until I began to take short walks outside.

Mummy had been worried about me, so she called Doctor Clarkson. He said I needed to exercise my ankle.

The walks weren't complete torture, in that I had Mummy to keep me company. We grew much closer over the weeks Daddy was gone, and I came to look forward to those times with her as a brief respite from the worry gnawing at my soul. She always seemed to make the situation lighter somehow; less painful and harrowing.

Five days before Christmas, I was sitting in the library after one of my walks, and the realisation finally hit me, that Daddy would not come home for Christmas that year. We were not allowed to talk with him anymore over the phone, until they straightened out the case. That was taking an eternity; seeing as my father hadn't been in Ireland for more than eight years.

Mummy was gone, and I began to cry silently behind my book.

I heard a soft voice near me.

"Miss Sybbie! What's wrong?"

Kate was standing before me; compassion in her green eyes.

I wiped away my tears as she sat next to me.

"Daddy won't make it to Christmas!" I choked, "he'll be all alone in Ireland!"

The maid put her hand on my shoulder.

"Don't be like that! 'E may coome back yet... you'll see! It's too soon to despair."

"No, I think it isn't to soon. Oh! I wish his mother had died before he even heard of her illness! He never would have left!"

"Miss Sybbie, don't say that! Y' don't mean it!"

I gave a sob and hid my face in my blanket.

"No, I-I don't. He needed t-to visit her before she died."

We sat on silence for a while, and my crying ceased.

Anon, Kate spoke.

"I 'ave a little good news, if y'd like t' 'ear it."

She smiled.

"It's about our secret."

I sat up straighter and looked expectantly at her.

"Albert?" I asked her.

"Yes... he's... he's asked me t' marry 'im!"

I squealed and gripped her hand.

"Yay! Finally!"

She laughed.

"Remember though, it 'as t' stay our secret."