Author's Note/Warning: I am a creative writing major with severe fic anxiety. Please alert me of discrepancies you see, other than those noted. This will not be perfect, by any means. I haven't written fanfiction in like four years. ANYWAY.
Taking a small bit of liberty here with a more sudden introduction of a new housemaid at the servant's ball, I know it doesn't make sense, guess what: I DO WHAT I WANT. Any reviews or suggestions are greatly appreciated.
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Edith Crawley was her mother's least favorite daughter. It was a fact widely known, not just upstairs but below stairs as well. Occasional comments in the servant's hall, remarks of pity from a passing housemaid, were not silenced by Carson as those against Mary always were. This was, of course, when anyone mentioned her at all, for Edith had seemingly spent most of her life forgotten.
During the war, people finally took notice of the mousy middle Crawley sister; depended and relied on her. Edith suddenly had more to do than wander around the rooms of the castle, or the rooms in empty church halls, searching for the suitor that never came. During the war, she was useful; available to fetch books and other comforts for the wounded officers that had taken up residence in the family home. There had been a man, whom Edith still firmly believed was the cousin she had loved so long ago, that had shown interest in her, for a time. Her family chided her naivety, insisting that this 'Patrick' was merely an opportunist; a fortune hunter seeking her favor to avoid an almost certain life of squalor. What they didn't see was that Edith wouldn't care if the man was an imposter, he enjoyed her company- and she, his. He paid her the attentions so many men had wasted on Mary, and would have on Sybil had she not bet her lot on Branson.
But he was far gone, along with the rest of the officers she had come to know and depend on for her feelings of purpose. She supposed she shouldn't be sad over the end of a war, for it meant the safety of innocent men, but it was frustrating to return to a life in the shadows. The monotony of daily life was now maddening where before it had been pleasurable, but unlike Sybil, she had no knight in copper armor to whisk her away for more excitement.