Cora had retreated to her upstairs sitting room, the only room in the house that she felt was hers. It was the only room she had redecorated after becoming the Countess of Grantham. Gone were the heavy dark brocade drapes that matched the equally dark and gloomy red painted walls. Now, thanks to the light peach colored wallpaper that matched the silk drapes and complimented the darker peach colored sofa and lounge chairs and even the wood trim that had been painted white, the room was lighter, brighter, and airier. Much like Cora herself compared to her mother-in-law the now Dowager Countess.

Sitting anywhere in the room one had a magnificent view of the tree tops through the large floor to ceiling windows. That view reminded Cora of the view of Central Park from her bedroom window at her parents' Fifth Avenue home. And just like she did in New York as a teenager, Cora would sit here and watch the changing of the seasons as evidenced by those trees. Today an array of reds, oranges, yellows and rust draped the trees in a colorful display heralding the height of fall.

But today Cora wasn't appreciating that view. She usually spent her mornings here in this room attending to her correspondence and then reading a book or knitting or embroidering but not today. Although there was a fire in the fireplace, Cora had a woolen shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hands were wrapped in the ends of the shawl which she held close to her chest as if trying to ward off an endless chill. She sat staring at the fire, her eyes were red and wet with unshed tears but occasionally a tear would escape and stray down her cheek.

She had been laying in bed, just finishing the remains of her breakfast when Robert had come into the room bearing the telegram. Your dear father had a heart attack. The words seemed so cold. There was nothing that could be done to save him.

The Dowager would have considered it a most inappropriate display but in that moment Cora wasn't Lady Grantham she was Cora Levinson. To his credit Robert had held her and she felt glad to have his arms around her and the feel of his chest against her head as she openly cried.

One might have thought that Cora would stay in her bed all day cocooned in the warmth of her covers but she had gotten dressed and had made her way here to this room where she sat staring at the fire thinking of her beloved father. Although she had now been living in England for almost thirteen years, Cora still missed her parents. During these years there had been many times when she had wished she had them to talk to, when she wished she had an ally. She knew her mother thought she had become "too English" and maybe she had but that didn't mean she agreed with everything in her new life although she rarely voiced aloud her opinions.

How could her beloved father be dead? It had only been a few months ago that he and her mother had visited Downton. While her mother had come several times to England since Cora's marriage, it was only the second time her father had come and she suspected it had to do with Sybil. Last year Cora and the girls had gone to New York to visit her family and it became apparent that her father had been captivated by little Sybil. She so reminds me of you Cora of when you were that age.

The news of their grandfather's death was delivered to the Crawley girls by their governess. The manner and tone of that delivery was more to inform the girls to be more quiet and unobtrusive for their mother's sake than any sympathy. And it was only seven year old Sybil who showed any tears.

"Really Sybil we hardly knew the man."

"How can you say that when he was just here this summer."

"And that was probably only the third or fourth time we've met him."

"But he was our grandfather."

"So?"

"Oh Mary you can be so heartless sometimes."

Although the house was not officially in mourning, Mrs. Hughes knew that her ladyship was and thought it would be best to keep the housemaids occupied with duties that wouldn't intrude on the family and her ladyship in particular. Mrs. Hughes was making her rounds ensuring that the housemaids were carrying out her orders in cleaning some of the guest rooms or other rarely used rooms. It wasn't that guests were expected but she had thought today would be a good day for doing that sort of work and it would keep the housemaids out of her ladyship's way allowing her a bit of privacy. In a house this large only a few of the guest rooms were dusted daily, mirrors cleaned, and rugs swept so that they were ready immediately for any unexpected guest. There were far more rooms that were rarely or never used and some had been stripped bare of all carpets and furniture while a few that might be used occasionally whose furniture was covered in drop cloths.

As she made her way down the corridor, inspecting the rooms as she went, Mrs. Hughes thought she heard muffled crying although she wasn't sure where the sounds were coming from. Puzzled, she stopped in the corridor to listen. She stood there a full minute never hearing another sound thinking she must have imagined it when suddenly the sounds of crying were audible once more only this time a bit closer than before.

Why ever would one of the housemaids be unhappy enough to cry she wondered. It wasn't like there was a new young housemaid who was going through that period of adjustment in leaving their home and family. Nor had anyone given her any inkling of unhappiness. To her credit Mrs. Hughes was a kind woman and she cared about her staff especially the young housemaids.

The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and Mrs. Hughes stood in front of it for a moment just to make sure it was the right room. Quietly and slowly pushing open the bedroom door, Mrs. Hughes found herself in one of those rarely used bedrooms. The bed was stripped bare and all of the furniture whether the two lounge chairs or the dressers, chests and tables were covered with drop cloths. She was puzzled since she saw no one in the room but she was sure she had heard muffled sounds of crying emanating from this room.

As she turned to leave the room, she once again heard the sounds of someone softly crying. Stopping at the doorway, she tilted her head, her brow furrowed in puzzlement as she once more gazed around the room. When her vision fell on the large window she realized someone was sitting on the window seat concealed by one of the drapery panels that covered half the window.

Not wanting to scare whoever it was, she softly called out "Are you all right?"

The small foot that had been visible was suddenly pulled back behind the drapery.

"Go away" came the small voice.

To Mrs. Hughes' great surprise it was young Lady Sybil who was curled up on the window seat in this out of the way room. Although she shouldn't have been surprised for it was well known that Lady Sybil traversed the house looking for adventure.

"Lady Sybil" Mrs. Hughes spoke quietly as she walked over to the window seat. The child was sitting with her legs bent at the knees and with her arms wrapped around her kneecaps. In her hands she held what looked like two photographs.

Sybil lifted her head just enough to look at Mrs. Hughes, her blue eyes made startling bright by glistening tears.

Mrs. Hughes lowered herself onto the window seat. Speaking softly she asked "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Mary and Edith think I'm foolish for crying over Grandpapa" Sybil replied in a shaky voice. "But …" her lower lip began quivering "but I liked him."

"Of course you did my lass. He was a very nice man."

Sybil nodded her head. "Oh Mrs. Hughes we had such fun when he came to visit us." She looked down at her hands which Mrs. Hughes now saw held a photograph and a postcard.

Sybil lifted her left hand towards Mrs. Hughes showing her the postcard of the pier at Brighton. "Oh we had the funnest day here." It had been a day of playing arcade games, dipping their toes in the water, eating sausages and candy floss.

"And that's how you should remember him lass. You might not have spent a lot of time together but I'd say it was time well spent."

Sybil looked down at the photograph of her and her grandfather. It had been taken on the Brighton pier with Sybil sitting on the railing, her grandfather standing beside her with his arm protectively around her, both their faces beaming with big smiles. Keeping her eyes focused on the photograph she murmured "I was going to visit New York next year. We had already talked about all the things we were going to do like ride the carousel in the park and feed the birds and …" she sighed. "He said Coodey Island was even better than Brighton."

Looking up at Mrs. Hughes with tears starting to roll down her cheeks she said "I've never known anyone to die before."

Mrs. Hughes pulled the child into her lap. "It's not easy losing those we love. I'd say you have some very nice memories of him. I remember seeing the two of you out walking …" and so Mrs. Hughes talked and listened as she comforted the young girl.

Not displaying her usual buoyancy Sybil walked down the corridor to her mother's sitting room. Stopping at the doorway, Sybil poked her head through small space formed by the partially opened door to see her mother sitting on the sofa staring at the fireplace. She looked once more at the objects in her hands before walking into the room.

"Mama" she whispered.

Cora looked up at her youngest daughter and faintly smiled. Without waiting for an invitation, Sybil sat down on the sofa so close to her mother that she leaned her head against Cora's arm.

"I've been thinking about Grandpapa." Sybil held out the photograph and postcard she had shown Mrs. Hughes. "Do you remember this day mama?"

Cora took the photograph from Sybil's hand. "It was a lovely day. Just a perfect day to be by the seaside."

"Remember how that bird sat on Grandpapa's hat?" Sybil giggled at the thought of her Grandfather standing on the pier with a bird sitting on his hat. "And then it swooped down and took Edith's sausage roll right out of hand?"

Cora joined her daughter in laughing.

Sybil lifted her head and tilted towards her mother. "Did he ever take you to Coody Island?"

Cora furrowed her brows … Coody Island?

"Grandpapa said it was even better than Brighton."

"Oh dear you mean Coney Island." Cora leaned back and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were glassy with tears. "We did and it was a lot of fun."

Sybil nodded her head. "Tell me some stories of you and Grandpapa … from when you were my age."

It was Mrs. Hughes who brought a tea tray up to her ladyship's sitting room. Expecting to find a downcast Cora she was surprised to hear giggling as she neared the sitting room. Then she heard Lady Sybil's voice "so he just fell into the fountain?"

Standing there, listening to mother and daughter, Mrs. Hughes smiled as she thought that comfort sometimes comes from unexpected sources.