A/N: So this is an AU fic of my fic A Patch of Clover, which explores the events of Downton Abbey from the point of view of Tom Branson's cousin, Mairead Hayes.

As I was working on Clover, I began to wonder what might have changed in Mairead's life if Sybil had not died in childbirth, and this fic and the events that it encompasses are just that- what would have happened if Sybil lived?

Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey. I only own Mairead, really.

September 1920

"Mrs. Hughes, might I speak with you a moment?"

The housekeeper of Downton Abbey glanced up from the linen rotation she'd been working on for the better part of the morning. She knew exactly who to expect—who else in the household's staff spoke with the unmistakable lilt of an Irishwoman, or with such hesitant politeness?

"Yes Mairead," the Scotswoman replied, indicating that the girl sit down. "What is it?"

Mairead bit her lip, and for a moment, her gaze dropped to her lap, where she was trying very hard not to fidget with her hands. "Mrs. Hughes, I just want to say…I….I'm thankful for the work I've had here, I really am. The family has been fair to me, and the other servants have become like a family to me, but…"

Elsie nodded in understanding. She saw where this was going—she should have guessed, really, by the way Mairead fidgeted.

"Is it time for you to move on then?" she asked, not unkindly, but in a way that hopefully would convey that she saw no issue in it.

Times were changing, that was for sure.

In the days of Elsie's youth, when she was still a young housemaid, when Mr. Carson was a footman, and when Mrs. Patmore was still a kitchen maid (strange, to think of Mrs. Patmore as being anywhere but her position of power in the kitchen), this would never happen. You stayed where the work was good for as long as you were able, until you decided to get married (if you fancied the idea), or until scandal threw you out. There was none of this "moving on" business, especially not for young women like Mairead Hayes, who had a promising future as housekeeper one day.

Nowadays, it seemed like more and more young men and women (more women, Elsie concluded, remembering the sudden lack of footmen and valets after the war) were staying for a couple of years and then heading off to greener pastures, be them other households, or jobs in the city. She wondered which it would be for Mairead—another household, or the city.

Mairead nodded. "Yes ma'am," she said, the tension leaving her body once Elsie gave voice to her thoughts for her. "I won't be moving on immediately, perhaps in three weeks."

"You do realize that three weeks might as well be immediately," Elsie said, not because she wished to snap at the girl, but because she knew Mr. Carson would voice that very same complaint when he heard. "If you had given a month's notice."

"And I would have, ma'am, only last week, we were all so worried over Lady Sybil and Róisín."

At the mention of Lady Sybil and the lady's child, Róisín, or Rosie, Elsie couldn't help but smile. "I see."

It had been a trying night for all of them, servants and family alike, when Róisín was born. There had not only been the anxiety that came with witnessing childbirth, but the fear that another danger—eclampsia—awaited Sybil once her child was safe in the world. Luckily, the window for the danger to show itself had passed, much to the relief of the Crawleys and the servants who admired the youngest of His Lordship's daughters, who had thanked Sir Philip Tapsell while Dr. Clarkson left in indignant silence.

After the successful birth came the christening, where the child was named Róisín Margaret Branson before God, and Lady Mary had been appointed as her godmother, while Kieran Branson, Tom's older brother, filled the role of godfather. The whole affair of the christening had been quite the event, and many of the senior servants were nervous over the fact that the child was being christened Catholic.

Mairead, however, gave no indication of anxiety over this fact. Not surprising, really, since she was a Catholic herself, and Elsie wondered if at times the girl felt alienated because of her religion, or perhaps because of her nationality.

Ireland was all over the newspapers, as much as anyone wished to deny it, and no doubt Mairead felt singled out at meals when the conversation went unchecked and politics arose as a topic of conversation. If she did, she said nothing, the dear girl, though perhaps it had become too much, and that was why she was planning to leave now.

"Mrs. Hughes, if I'm allowed any say in who fills the post of head housemaid once I'm gone, I would like to put Madge forward as a candidate."

"That's very kind of you," Elsie replied, smiling at the young woman's words. "I will consider it, but as you know, it's a demanding post, Mairead, and…I don't think Madge is the ideal candidate."

"Of course." A hint of pink rose in Mairead's cheeks. "Forgive me."

"You're forgiven, Mairead." Elsie closed her ledger. There was no way she would be getting back to that work any time soon. "I expect you would like a reference?"

"If you would be so kind, ma'am," came Mairead's reply. "I'd greatly appreciate it."

"Might I ask what you'll do once you've left us?"

Again, Elsie saw Mairead biting her lip. "I've been looking at work in London, ma'am," she finally said, releasing her lip.

"You won't go back to Ireland then?"

Mairead shook her head. "No ma'am," she said, and something akin to sadness flickered in the girl's dark eyes as she spoke. "I wish I could, but…I'm not sure I'm ready to go back yet."

"I understand." Elsie made a quick note on a scrap of paper to write the girl's recommendation, sort out her wages, and find a new head housemaid before Mairead was due to leave.

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes."

"Thank you for letting me know, Mairead," she said, setting her pencil down. "Until you go, I trust you'll keep up with your regular duties, with your usual level of industry."

"Of course ma'am," Mairead said, smiling. It was a somewhat sad smile—bittersweet, maybe—but a smile nonetheless. "I wouldn't dream of slacking off, just because I'm leaving…"

"I wouldn't think so," Elsie reassured the girl. "You're a hardworking young woman, Mairead, I'd expect nothing less of you. We'll be sad to see you go."

"I'm sad to be going myself, Mrs. Hughes, but it's time for me to move on, I think."

A/N: And that concludes the first chapter!

I hope you all have enjoyed this fic so far, and I hope you will continue to enjoy it as much as you have A Patch of Clover (If you have not read A Patch of Clover, that is 100% okay. If you did not enjoy A Patch of Clover, that is also 100% okay).

Please leave any thoughts you might have about this first chapter, and I'll try to update as regularly as I possibly can.

Thank you!