A/N: Just a little birthday present for the lovely ladynoblesong, many happy returns darling! I don't really know what this is, but I hope you enjoy it, even if it is a little (a lot) silly ^.^

Toast, assorted, and in its rack, jam, marmalade, butter. The maid counted anti-clockwise the edibles and condiments she had carefully laid out on her mistress' breakfast tray; straightening the cutlery, she picked up a tiny silver spoon and twirled it between her fingers- it had been so long since she'd worked in a house like this that she was quite unused to the little fripperies that made places like Downton Abbey the epitome of envy and extravagance. She shook her head, replacing the offending piece of silverware, and making a small tutting noise. There was still something missing, however. Turning she picked up the last remaining item bound for the tray, the most important- what Thomas has affectionately referred to as the 'coup d'état' in her proverbial seduction of her mistress. Funny, to her it just looked like a glass of orange juice.

Climbing the stairs that led out of the servant's hall and into the main house Phyllis Baxter, with tray in hand, made her way up to her mistress's quarters. She fixed a practised smile onto her face, composing herself. It wasn't like she was new to this; it was, after all, the very reason that Thomas had sought her out in the first place. Oh, it had been many years since they had seen one another, to be sure- but friendships forged in the fires of adversity… or the fires of passion, or any fire at all really, were welded together with the strongest of seals. That and the small matter of a not so small secret which the rotten snake had been using to blackmail her…

In no time, the maid found herself positioned outside of Lady Grantham's door; she supposed she should feel nervous, but after 20 years of working as something of an amateur spymaster, it was just as routine as fastening her corset. Pulling down the handle and pushing open the door with her shoulder, Phyllis let herself into her mistress' room without fanfare, "Good morning, milady, sleep well I hope?"

"Yes thank you, Baxter, and good morning", Cora Crawley's voice was laced heavy with tiredness, despite her assertion that she had indeed slept soundly. She was propped up in her bed on two plump pillows set behind her back, her raven locks mussed up in their plait, "Just set the tray over there" she gestured to a side table.

Baxter complied, but after she'd set down her Ladyships breakfast she turned a concerned eye upon her mistress, "Milday, are you sure all is well?"

"I'm just, out of sorts", came Lady Grantham's strained reply, fiddling with her fingers as she spoke.

"Shall I call for Doctor Clarkson, milady?" Phyllis approached the bed, reaching out a hand for her mistress' forehead to check her temperature.

Cora batted her away, "No, I'm not unwell, far from it, it's just I'm finding it difficult to adjust to-" she trailed off.

"Yes, milady?" Phyllis prompted her.

"I don't mean to offend you Baxter, but I had the same lady's maid for 18 years and, suddenly, without any warning, she ups and leaves in the middle of the night. And then your predecessor Braithwaite goes in a not dissimilar way and I-" she trails off, her voice catching in her throat, "I can't help but wonder how long it will be until you too leave me."

Phyllis' brow furrows, entirely unsure of how best to respond to this strange confession. Never before had she served anyone who took to attachment without intimacy… or rather she didn't think there had been intimacy, although she would trust Thomas not to tell her everything. Lady Grantham was a strange one and no denying. Maybe it's an American thing, she mused.Or maybe, this was an opportunity she could use. Slowly she lowered herself onto the edge of the Countess' bed, and when no chastisement came from the familiarity, she settled herself down, "Well, milady, I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon"

"That somehow doesn't comfort me" Cora hung her head and then, after a pause, let her hand fall onto the bedspread- an invitation for her maid to take it; which, of course, she did without question.

"Milady, forgive any impertinence, but I'd be a fool to go looking for another job when I'm already in service to one of the most kind and generous families I've ever come across" …that and Thomas has given me all but no choice in the matter… she added as a silent aside, and her words sounded almost sincere.

Still, Cora looked back at her with a baleful expression- whenever she was upset she always managed to look like a kicked puppy; maybe on account of her rather large eyes- Phyllis shifted uncomfortably on her perch, "Milady, I don't know what I can do to reassure you but, if there is anything, I'll do it gladly…"

"Thank you, Baxter…" the Countess trailed off, her eyes glazing over for a second so fractional that Phyllis wondered if she'd imagined it, "… should I think of something, I'll let you know."

And with that she was dismissed.

Onwards to Chapter 2, where something actually happens…