1

"All right, everyone for Downton, this is your stop!" the harsh voice of the guard bellowed through the packed carriage as the shrill squeal of the brakes sent a ringing through my ears. I could just about make out the shadows on the guards poorly-illuminated face as he turned to leave the third-class sector of the train to make his way back to what I'm sure was his own plush compartment. I scowled at him without realizing. How I envy the rich.

I could feel all eyes on me as I rose from my spot in the darkened corner from where I had been hiding from the hawk-like eyes of my fellow passengers. I'm sure any responsible Englishman would be sure to inquire as to why a skinny fourteen year old such as myself is travelling in the dark, to such a foreign place as the country with an absence of a companion. As I am the only to move, the curious eyes of twenty other passengers bare into my back as I cross the compact carriage and jump onto the platform.

The majority of the platform was barely visible, which makes it difficult for me to navigate my way along the diminutive platform and find the path to the village. There aren't many noises about, only the occasional hoot of an owl to make me jump out of my skin. I decide to find a place to sleep for the night and make my way to the house in the morning. Also, I arrive at the conclusion to wait to confirm or deny my prejudgments about the country until tomorrow morning. Having never been anywhere but Northampton before, I am curious to investigate the wonders of this alien place for myself, having only read about them in the books back at home.

Home. I shudder at the thought.

I know I shouldn't have run away, but it's not as if any of those ratty girls of mistresses will miss me. I doubt they'll even telephone for the police or even take note of my absence. I'm an orphan, or so I thought, no one will miss me. I can't possibly call that place my home, for it never truly was. That's what I'm doing by travelling here, I tell myself, finding my real home.

I look up quizzically, to discover that I have been pacing the platform as I think, murmuring the occasional word to myself. These words are barely audible; however I still turn to check if anyone has heard me. I am relieved to find that the platform is deserted, like a ghost town at the dead of night, with only the station guard here to keep everything in order, not that they can possibly have much riff-raff in somewhere such as Yorkshire. At the other end of the platform, the dim light of an oil lamp and a dark shadow on the wall in the station guard's office reassures me that the only other person here has fallen asleep in his chair.

I wake to the feel of the icy, fresh spring breeze dancing across my cheeks, and sit up slowly from my spot on the rotting wooden bench in the centre of the village green. I come to the conclusion that Downton is a cheery little place, the villagers going about on their daily business; the milkman with his cart, the paper boy on his bicycle. I receive a few odd looks from the occasional resident – although I can't really blame them for their curiosity. I must look like a wreck, and I haven't eaten anything for hours.

I sig and reach into the front pocket of my now-grubby Sunday dress, and my fingers tighten around the two pieces of folded parchment. I open the first; a decade old crumpled scrap of paper, however the words are still clearly visible in jet-black ink.

My darling Elizabeth,

I don't expect you to forgive me for what I have done, but I pray that one day you will find it in your heart to understand. We loved you so much more than you realize, but alas I had to give you away. Your father's business was losing money, and we simply couldn't afford to look after another baby. I had trouble with your sister – and I didn't know how to cope with two of you.

Your father was at work on the day you were born, so I managed to pull my stunt with you off. Before he came back, I gave you to my lady's maid, Josephine, and told her to take you to an orphanage in the next city. She did what I asked without question, she was under our employment after all. I never saw you again. I told your father and sister that you were stillborn. Oh how they wept when they found out. They loved you so much even though they never saw you.

I don't expect you to understand why I did what I did, you are eight years old now, all grown up. I knew I had to write one day, and I didn't want to leave it too late in your life. In this envelope I have also included my silver locket, which I want you to keep as a reminder of the family who love you so dearly. I will find you one day my darling, and then we can all be together again. You, me, your father and your sister, Lavinia.

Katherine Swire

My Mother.

'Of course I can't understand,' I think to myself, 'how could she ever expect me to understand?' I thrust the paper angrily back into my pocket. Six years after receiving that letter, I feel nothing but numbness towards the woman who calls herself my mother.