Lady Cora, the Countess of Grantham was never one for getting upset about things without a proper reason, except of course when it involved her children. As a American, she had a far more hands on approach to motherhood than the English did which gave her mother-in-law, the Dowager Countess a few words to say whenever she was seen sorting out a disagreement or two between her eldest daughters Mary and Edith. Naturally, the Dowager Countess would have deemed it far more suitable for the governess or nanny to sort out the tears and tantrums that often occurred between the two, but Cora believed that bringing up daughters in the correct manner was a mixture of mothers love and attention and wise words of wisdom and sometimes scolding from the governess in charge. However on this particular day, June the ninth to be exact, Cora was put in a rather unfortunate situation.
There had been a certain incident the day before involving an inkwell, a golden colored plait which during the incident had turned black, two sisters and a lot of tears which resulted in the governess leaving.
"disrupting influence" she had said to Carson the butler as he carried out her luggage case to the horse and cart.
This would not have been a problem but for the fact that their residing Nanny was visiting her sick mother in Poplar and would not be back for a week and there was no one then to care for their youngest daughter, three year old Lydia. For an estate as large as Downton Abbey, one would know that a governess simply does not take care of a baby, but a nurse maid was no longer needed since Lydia was out of napkins and feeding bottles, and in this case, any family friend who knew the Crawleys well would be able to tell you how much attention and discipline was needed to keep the girls in line. So at Downton Abbey, the Governess and Nanny worked hand in hand to keep a sharp minded Mary, quick tongued Edith, aspirational Sybil and adventurous Lydia out of trouble. But the situation that Cora had been put in on that particular day was that with the governess gone, there was no one to look after Lydia (the governess did that whilst making sure Mary, Edith and Sybil were working on their school work whilst the Nanny was away) and keep the other three girls out of trouble. More importantly, Cora was taking her three eldest daughters into Ripon to have new dresses fitted for Sybil's tenth birthday party which was due to be held on her birthday on the eighteenth of June.
Being a busy person, Cora knew she could not afford the time to postpone this trip, so there was only one option. Her husband Robert, the Earl of Grantham would have to take care of Lydia, whilst she was out.

As the horse and carriage rode out of the driveway, Robert stared after it. He had seen his wife and daughters off and wished them a successful trip. Now he was left in the house with his three year old daughter. This would have been fine, except Lydia was a lot more outspoken than his others daughters had been at her age. She had a lot to say for herself and Robert, sometimes being a man of few words often did not know what to say to Lydia's inquisitive questions and it often left him bemused in the evenings after a what was supposed to be a quick five minute goodnight kiss but turned into a twenty five minute kiss after a series of long conversations involving tales of Lydia's dolls and their misfortunes. This wild imagination Robert thought was all inherited from Cora and her American heritage.

"Papa"

A small hand was pulling at his trousers and Robert looked down to see Lydia's bright blue eyes staring up at him. He smiled at her before asking,
"shall we go inside?"
He took her tiny hand and led her inside towards the steps. The steps, concrete hard looked in comparison to the tiny blond haired blued eyed child like giants. Robert, deciding it was better to save those bony white knees from bandages and eventually rubbing scabs, picked Lydia up. She was so small and fragile that Robert was concerned about crushing her tight. He hadn't much experience in picking up Lydia as being the youngest, Robert assumed it would be just like holding a three year old Mary for the first time, the point being that having your first child is new and exciting, but by the fourth, you have seen and done it all. But this was nothing like holding Mary. Mary had been a lot bigger and heavier and there was no concern at all about crushing her. One could here her footsteps thudding on the floor as she ran and because she was tall for her age, one would notice her from a mile. Lydia however was much smaller than the average three year old and Robert had often heard Cora saying how passers-by had said what an advanced one year old she was, walking at her age. When Lydia ran, it was like the pitter patter of tiny mice on the floor, barely making a sound and you could hardly notice her presence in the room if it weren't for the endless questions and talking. This Robert thought made up for her in height.

He carried her inside and into the drawing room. Lydia had her arms around him so tightly that when Robert came to put her down onto the sofa, he could hardly prise her off him. For such a small being, Lydia was surprisingly strong. Robert didn't want any tears and fuss made so instead he sat down in his favorite armchair by the fire and sat the little girl on his knee. Lydia immediately made herself at home, leaning her head into his neck reminding Robert of her presence by breathing into it. The feel of the breath on his neck was surprisingly nice and it made Robert feel a most unusual surge of love for his daughter. Unusual being that the only other times he had felt this was when he had held each one of his daughters after their birth. This situation was strange to Robert. It was not often he was found with a small child on his knee but now that it was happening, it wasn't so bad, he ought to do it more often. Up until now, he had thought it a woman's job to comfort and cuddle small children but when he looked at it, it wasn't particularly a woman's area of expertise, lots of men looked after their children. Just not very often, in Roberts case.

Almost immediately as Robert had thought it, the endless questions started.
"Papa, how did you carry me so high up in the sky when you lifted me? Do i seem small to you? Did you know that when Edith was playing in the garden, she got her head stuck in the gooseberry bush! Have you ever got your head stuck in the gooseberry bush?"

A lot of these questions were seemingly pointless but were rather humorous and to Robert, it was as if he was reliving certain bits of his childhood. Lydia was a lot like his sister Rosamund in appearance and personality. They both had blond hair and blue eyes and their endless chatter was like little birds chirping in a tree. This was part of the fun though. Lydia made Robert laugh on certain occasions, a rare thing that out of his four daughters, only Lydia could do. She made him smile in a way that he had only know Cora to do. That kind of smile that gave Robert a twinkle in his eye and the dimples in his cheeks stand out. Lydia was a lot like Cora too. In fact, Lydia was a strange mixture of everyone.

As Robert stared at his daughter through narrowed eyes he saw the mischievous side of Mary, the air of someone older just like Sybil had and the feisty American spirit Cora had. The only similarity Lydia had to Edith was her appearance, although Lydia, if Robert was perfectly honest, was far prettier than Edith, although a father should always state that any daughter was beautiful even if it wasn't true. Lydia looked and was exactly like all of her sisters and their mother put together. It was as if the Crawley women had inserted their looks and personality into this tiny being and out came Lydia. For such a tiny little girl, Lydia carried such a personality with her that it was a wonder it didn't weigh her down. But after watching her numerous times going about her busy little life, Robert saw that she carried it finely and with such confidence. She was going to be a great woman someday but for now, Robert knew he must enjoy the time he had with this small but feisty little girl that was now fast asleep on his knee.

All that could be heard from the room was the sound of heavy breathing coming from Lydia, her hot little head made a slight damp patch on Roberts shirt. When Cora returned from her trip, she walked into the room to find both Robert and Lydia asleep in the chair. Robert had perhaps fallen asleep from listening to the sound of Lydia's breathing and Lydia fallen asleep, tired from the questions asked. Cora walked over to them both, slipped them a quick kiss before leaving the room. Now, whenever Robert sits in his chair, he is still reminded of the time he spent, cradling a certain small child in his arms. The memory still remains, untouched and untold to no one, perhaps his own cherished memory for him to keep for himself. After all, if women can have fond memories of their babies, why cant men?