DISCLAIMER: I do not own Downton Abbey - I am not Julian Fellowes. If I was, I would never have killed sweet Sybil. k thnx.
Authors Note: This is my first Downton Abbey fanfiction - but I am an avid reader of the fics and this week's episode (3x05) has urged me to write out some short, beautiful moments between Tom and his daughter. I will continue this for as long as possible. Please read and review!
He refused to have his child in a separate room. It seemed that the little face of his newborn child was his sole comfort. He held the utmost appreciation to his wife's family for the amount of assistance that they lavished on him; Mary and Edith would come now and then to offer him food and his mother-in-law would come and talk with him whenever she could handle his relentless tears. However, it was his child that seemed to calm him to an extent – he would watch as she looked at him with wide, curious blue orbs that shimmered in the dim light of the bedroom; her little forehead would wrinkle whenever she yawned, her mouth forming a perfect circle as she nuzzled herself into her swaddle of blankets.
"I have a present for you," he murmured to her. Tom stroked her little pink cheeks and watched with amazement as she responded with a gummy smile. He took the tiny pair of woollen boots from his pocket – he had them in there since his wife went into labour, as she had instructed him to do so. Sybil had acquired many new talents since she moved to Ireland with him, but Tom had to admit that he was most impressed with her new knack for knitting that she had learnt from his mother.
"These are from your mammy." He uncovered the blankets so that he could pull the woollen boots over her little feet. "You see, she is looking after you still," he said to her with a smile that was clouded with sheer sadness. Tom pulled the blankets around his daughter and gathered her into his arms; he looked over at the bassinet in the corner of the room and frowned. It somehow felt wrong to leave her on her own in the dark corner of the bedroom; they were both alone now.
"Come on, sweetheart, don't fret. I'll look after you," he murmured to her gently as he heard the first few sniffles come from her. Her little nose was scrunched up in dissatisfaction and Tom realised how much she was like Sybil when she was like that. His heart felt like it had been wrenched out of his chest as he touched her button nose with a sad smile. "I don't think any other name would suit you, little one."