Downton Abbey Comment Ficathon
With the new season upon us, and fandom all extra-enthusiastic, I figured now would be a great time for this. Because there can never be enough Downton Abbey fic, and there certainly isn't enough now!
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"I'm not finished" Mary says amongst Edith's protests, sticking her tongue out at her. Papa eventually reaches a compromise by placing the baby in Cora's arms as both Mary and Edith snuggled up on either side of her and gaze at their newest family member.
"She looks just like my dolly." Mary finally announces, breaking the silence. Her Papa seems to find something amusing in this statement as he lets out a quiet laugh,
"Darling, you have so many dolls I would be shocked if she didn't bear some resemblance to at least one of them."
"Yes, but she looks exactly like Sybil" she says as Carson represses a snort from behind his gloved hand. She throws a glower his way before aiming an even harsher one at Edith "my favourite dolly that Edith dropped in the lake." Her parents both give sounds of remembrance, that is one debacle that won't be forgotten for a good few years. "I hope she has blue eyes." Mary finishes softly. Her parents share a look.
"You know, I think Sybil is a fine name." her Papa says after a while as her mother nods in agreement
"Oh yes a wonderful name, don't you think so Carson?"
"A marvelous name indeed" he resounds.
"Would you like it if we named her Sybil darling?" her Mama asks her gently. Mary gazes in amazement at her as Edith lets out an indignant sound.
"Why can't I name her?" she asks with a waver in her voice. Her forehead is kissed as her mother assures her that she will absolutely be helping to choose the middle name which greatly pacifies her and she begins reeling off some of her favourite names. Her Parents look kindly down at her as she looks at Carson. He gives her a solemn nod and that sense of importance fills her once again.
"Yes. Yes I think her name is most certainly Sybil." she announces to the room.
Mary eagerly awaits for her sister to open her eyes and many days later she is filled with smug satisfaction to see the clearest of blue's peering back up at her. Yes, her name was most certainty Sybil.
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Mary is thirteen and far too old for climbing tree's and other such nonsense when she comes across her youngest sister in the garden doing exactly that. Mary ignores the twinge of nostalgia to see her in the tree she used to so often be found in, she also ignores the twinge of indignation to see her sister has gotten higher than she ever seemed to.
She shouts across the garden for her to climb down immediately but somewhat ironically gives her such a shock that she looses her footing and plummets to the ground, almost it seems in slow motion. Mary doesn't even hear the scream of surprise that comes out of her own mouth. Her youngest sisters little blue clad body lies at the foot of the tree, looking almost close to the doll she was named for.
She forgets all teachings of being a lady and races across the space to reach her sister, heart in her throat. Throwing herself on the ground, wetting the skirt of her pretty dress with the dew from the grass she reaches towards Sybil who has already begun to sit up, clutching her elbow with tears welling up and spilling out of her blue eyes. Her pink lips are scrunched up and her little fists are beginning to clench.
"Oh darling." Mary says in pure relief, repeating this several times as she pulls her youngest sister onto her lap. She strokes her soft dark hair and lets her cry into her chest, rocking her back and forth and attempting to steady her own heartbeat that still feels as though its about to burst out her own chest. "Why is nobody watching you? Where is Mrs Grayson?" she asks scathingly, referring to Sybil's nanny. Her panic slowly giving way to fury.
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"Oh I'm not angry with you my darling, although I am very angry with Mrs Grayson, running away or not. Just suppose you had fallen and landed much worse and there was nobody here to help you. Why Papa would have her neck for it, if I didn't get there first." she tells Sybil cradling her in her lap. Sybil lets out a watery giggle
"Would you have Mrs Grayson's neck for me Mary, even though she's very big?" she asks her
"Of course I would, you're my Sybil. I would have anyone's neck for you. No matter how big they were" Mary responds, pressing a kiss to her tan cheek. Sybil pulls a daisy from the grass and twirls it around, before attempting to twist it into Mary's dark locks, not dissimilar to her own.
"Would you for Papa and Mama and Edith and Grand-mama?" she asks, beginning to list off all their closest relatives. Mary runs her fingers across Sybil's cheek and is struck with Déjà vu, she rests her own cheek on her sisters head. There is a long pause as Sybil continues her attempt of weaving the flower into her sisters curls
"Oh... I expect so. But you, darling, you are my most favourite of all.' Mary finally tells her. As Sybil pauses
"You are my most favourite too Mary" she echoes her words. Mary feels irrationally proud
"Really?"
"Oh yes, well, I do love Edith and Mama and Papa and Grand-mama very much. But, well, you read to me and taught me how to ride and you let me wear your favourite jewels and even Mama won't do that." Sybil hesitates before telling her eldest sister "And I don't think Edith would have Mrs Grayson's neck for me." This causes Mary to burst into laughter and sweep her sister up before taking her hand and guiding her into the house.
"Oh she would my darling. Only for you though, I expect."
Twenty minutes later she has left a slightly bruised Sybil happily harassing the new Mrs Patmore for some snacks before dinner.
Twenty two minutes later she is stood in front of Carson fiercely demanding Mrs Grayson's firing, effective immediately, he raises an eyebrow as she somewhat hopefully asks if he would rather she did it herself. This is the eighth nanny in six years, five of whom haven't met the standards of Lady Mary to adequately take care of her beloved sister and somewhat unhelpfully this is an area her parents seem keen to indulge her in. She almost has reign equal to Carson when it comes to the hiring and firing of the help of Lady Sybil. Sometimes Carson thinks his little speech all those years ago worked a little too well.
None the less. Mrs Grayson is gone by dinner.
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