A.N. I am officially giving in to my basest instincts with this and starting to publish a non-completed story. Updating will likely be erratic. That's it for now.

1904

Sarah O'Brien had been working at Downton Abbey for a little over five years when she snatched the position of lady's maid to the Countess of Grantham through sheer audacity. She had been attending to the earl's two eldest daughters for a while, and she was particularly anxious to get away from Lady Mary Crawley, a spoilt brat who at the ripe age of thirteen fancied herself mistress of the house.

When Sarah heard that her Ladyship's current maid – a strange breed she had brought with her from America – was suddenly, most inexplicably, leaving Downton to return to the United States, she was confident that several years of experience as head housemaid as well as Lady Grantham's good opinion made her the obvious candidate to her succession. However, to her utmost surprise, she was told that she would simply be filling in until the countess had found a permanent replacement. Lady Grantham had an appointment in a week with what was, according to the housekeeper, a promising candidate...

When Sarah announced that she wanted to apply for the job, she was met with a disapproving frown, and when she asked if she had somehow fallen into disfavour with her Ladyship, Mrs Hughes answered her that it hardly mattered since she, in her quality as housekeeper, wouldn't put Sarah's name forward. She claimed that she didn't believe her to be mature enough for the position, but Sarah knew better than to take her words at face value. The truth of the matter was that Mrs Hughes had never approved of her tongue-in-cheek comments and unwillingness to let anyone trample over her, and she was now paying the price for her so-called lack of discipline.

Sarah had never really considered the possibility of bloody Hughes actively trying to hamper her climb up the ladder. She had got promoted to head housemaid shortly after her arrival and had spent the next few years biding her time, making sure she excelled in anything she did, planting the seeds for her next big move. Now she realized that she may have to kiss any hope of a career at Downton goodbye, and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Once again, Sarah found herself thinking of what might have been. If she hadn't been born to poor farmers from Lancashire, if she hadn't been the eldest child of six siblings... She knew that she had always been destined to be a servant, but had she been given a choice, she would have tried her luck as a dressmaker. It might not have made her any richer, but it was her dream job, and a secret which she had never shared with anyone. Not with her friends, because she had never been the type to make friends anyway. And not with her family, because they wouldn't have understood. She carried so much responsibility on her shoulders, and in the end neither her time nor her money belonged to her.

Ironically, it was while working as a housemaid that she had perfected her sewing and dressmaking skills. There was much to be learnt from watching and carefully buttering up a lady's maid...

All Sarah could realistically hope for was serving wealthy women for the rest of her life. If she was lucky enough, the ladies would be gifted with a good sense of fashion and would recognise the true value of her work. Obviously, it would be nothing like running her own shop, but it might be the nearest she would ever come to fulfilling her dream, and Sarah was bent on making it happen. Now, thanks to Mrs Hughes, even that consolation prize was being denied her.

There was another, untold part of the story which made the housekeeper's flat refusal harder to swallow still. Indeed, Sarah could have started looking for better opportunities elsewhere and left Downton Abbey. Even Mrs Hughes would be forced to give her an excellent reference if it came down to it. But she didn't want to leave. While she really was ambitious – too much for her own good in Elsie Hughes' opinion – her motivations for wanting to become Lady Grantham's personal maid went far beyond professional interest. The brutal truth was that from the moment Sarah O'Brien had met Cora Crawley, she had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and she had been fighting a losing battle against her troubling feelings ever since.

When Sarah had arrived at Downton Abbey, she hadn't expected much of her new employers. She had hoped that she would be treated decently, without being naive enough to take it for granted. She had been prepared to feel indifference and scorn for the Crawleys. Every last one of them. In the end, Lady Grantham had managed the sad feat of exceeding her expectations all while never coming even close to fulfilling them.

1899

On her second day working as a housemaid at Downton, Sarah chanced upon the Countess of Grantham in the library. She had been sent up to put away a flower vase some stupid sod had left lying around downstairs and, contrary to what the others had assured her, the room was absolutely not vacant. It was early afternoon and the lady of the house was supposed to be changing before going to Ripon. Instead she was doing silly acrobatics on top of a ladder with a heap of books tucked under her arm. Sarah was about to turn around and go back discreetly from where she had come when the countess called out to her.

"One moment."

So she had seen her after all. Sarah froze, inwardly congratulating herself for managing to draw negative attention to herself right from the outset...

"I don't believe I have ever seen you before," Lady Grantham said and peeked at her from above her shoulder. "You must be the new maid... What is your name?"

It certainly wasn't what Sarah had been expecting. What kind of a lady engaged the new housemaid in casual conversation in the library? Was that kind of behaviour standard in America?

"Sarah, Milady," she answered, schooling her face into a polite mask.

She came forward to place the vase back on the table, but didn't dare leave the room without a dismissal from Lady Grantham. Maybe that rather strange woman actually wanted something of her...

Either way, she certainly didn't appear to be in her element standing on that ladder, clinging tightly with her free hand as she started to climb down from her perch.

"May I help your Ladyship?"

"I'm fine," the countess said right before letting out a small oops as her foot missed the next step. Fortunately, she was a mere few feet from the ground. Sarah reached up instinctively, grabbing her around the waist to secure her as she struggled to regain her footing. The books hit the carpet below with a thump, missing her head by a hair's breadth. The countess half-tumbled, half-climbed down the last few rungs, releasing an audible sigh of relief when she finally reached the safety of the floor.

Sarah immediately stepped back and crouched down to pick up the books, thankful for a chance to compose herself. She knew that even if she had thought before she had acted, she would still have reached for the countess – after all, she could hardly have stood idly by as Lady Grantham crashed on the floor. However, she was also painfully aware of everything she had done in her presence, starting with entering uninvited and culminating in this clumsy rescue mission. Not to mention that Sarah had spoken to her without being addressed first. A proper housemaid was supposed to make herself invisible to her employers and instead she had been standing out like a sore thumb...

When she straightened up, Lady Grantham was standing right before her, delicately dabbing her brow with a silk handkerchief. She put it away and smiled gently as she eased the books out of the maid's outstretched hands. Sarah's arms fell slowly back to her side.

She had been shown photographs of the family the day before. Since it wasn't customary for members of the lower staff to be formally introduced, it had been Sarah's only chance to get to know who was who and to avoid inadvertently mixing up the master of the house with some passing guest. She remembered that she had thought the young countess rather pretty. Seeing the reality of her now, Sarah realized that she had been wrong. Cora Crawley wasn't pretty; she was the most beautiful creature Sarah had ever laid eyes on.

Sarah had come to her with wary indifference; she adored her from the second their gazes met. Almost thirty years later, she would still remember the mighty, unadulterated feeling that had gripped her when she had looked up into the eyes of the lovely, dainty American. It was as though she had been catapulted high into heaven and had seen an angel up close. She felt happy and dizzy all at once, her heart fluttering in her chest inexplicably.

"What an adventure! I will be sure to ring next time I need a book from all the way up there. It does not feel very dignified to jump straight into the arms of a housemaid."

Sarah was paying no attention to Lady Grantham's friendly chatter. She was too busy listening to the sound of her sweet voice, watching the warm afternoon sunlight glint in her dark hair and etching all of her into her mind as she was in that moment – perfect.

"Is everything alright?"