The ladies of the Downton St. Luke's Parish Auxiliary had been very glad as well as very fortunate when Mrs. Isobel Crawley arrived in the village with her 8 year old son, Matthew, and moved into Crawley House. Isobel had been the President of St. John's Parish Auxiliary back in Manchester, and during the good times when her husband was still alive she had been quite active. Young Matt - who by the time our story truly begins insisted that he was now too old to be called 'Matty' - had also been a contented little fellow, his father's pride and joy. Mother and son had now lived in Downton Village for just over two years, and had relatives on Dr. Reginald Crawley's side headed by a landless peer who lived in a small manor house on the other side of the village with his wife, his mother, and three little girls who were indeed a handful.

Christmas was coming soon, and St. Luke's hummed with activity that had begun just a few weeks beforehand. The highlight of the year was the Nativity Play put on by the children of the church - basically every child in Downton Village under the age of 12. Pretty little Lavinia Swire, the daughter of the town solicitor, was chosen to play Mary, and it had been been a hard choice between Evelyn Napier and Matt Crawley for the part of St. Joseph. But our Lord's mother and His guardian were non-speaking roles, and Matthew, though he was as shy as he had been ever since his father's death, got the minor but important role of the first shepherd to see the Star of Bethlehem, with a very important speech, because he was so tall and both his eyes and his voice were so clear and beautiful. A role that might bring the lad out of his shell…

A few other important roles were played by older children, about Matt's age. The younger children made up two unison choirs, the little shepherd boys and the little angel girls. This meant that all three of Robert and Cora Crawley's daughters had the same costume, the same wings, the same haloes, and the same songs to sing….

'That's my book, Mary!' 5 year old Edith lifted her shrill little voice when she saw her 6-year old sister open the neat cardboard cover of a prop that looked like a book of Christmas carols.

'No, it's not. You spilled chocolate milk on yours,' Mary replied. 'And you know it.'

'I did not!' Edith cried, reaching for Mary's 'book' and grabbing it. 'It was an acid… an acid….an acid-dint.'

Little tiny Sybil walked up to her sisters, picking up her skirt so that her pretty new tights showed completely. She looked so completely innocent that their Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Hughes, had to stifle a chuckle. The smallest Crawley let go of her skirt, and it fell properly, as she piped up.

'Chock-it miw'k?'

'No, no, Sybil. There will be chocolate milk at home. Now we are angels,' Mary replied, putting the 'book of carols' down.

'Ayn-dills? Mawee, what's an ayn-dill?'

'Angels are people in Heaven that fly like birds, Sybbie. So we get to pretend we can fly.'

'Tibbie fwy wike biwdee! Yay!'

And little Syble picked up her skirt and ran across the varnished wooden floor, laughing for joy, crying,

'Tibbie biwdee! Tibbie biwdee!'

In her childish flight of fancy, even as Mary and Edith fought once more over who should have the nicest looking cardboard carol book, the little bird-girl just about flew into a certain tall, blue eyed shepherd boy trying to memorise the passages from the Gospel of St. Matthew that had been assigned to him.

'Well, hallo there! You must be an angel,' young Matthew said, realizing how tiny she was and that their collision was surely an accident.

'Me biwdee! Me Tibbie Cwawwee,' the 2 year old replied, her eyes like saucers, and blue like Matt's.

'I'm Matthew Crawley. I'm a shepherd boy. And you must be my little cousin. I think I saw you when you were a baby.'

'You a Maff'yew Cwaw-wee? Hawwo, Maff'yew Cwaw-wee!'

Little Sybil smiled at her big cousin from Manchester, and shook her 'chock-it' curls.

'Now where are your Mama and your older sisters? Let's go find them, shall we?'

As Matt was not strong enough to pick up a two-year old and carry her for long, he took the child's little hand and trusted her to lead the way. Surely they were nearby….

'… You are so mean, Mary! I hate you!' Edith shouted, shoving her. 'Just because you are the oldest doesn't mean you get your way!'

'I'm smarter than you are, Edith,' Mary replied, slapping her. 'So I'm right. And you're wrong. And I'm your sister, so you can't hate me.'

And a tall, smartly dressed brunette lady walked quickly up to them from the other side of the room. This was their mother, Cora.

'Mary Josephine! Edith Susanne! What is going on here? You are misbehaving in church!'

The two girls instantly became downcast, and said in unison,

'Sorry, Mama…'

'That's not good enough. Be sorry to each other, too. You are in a Christmas play, and I want you to behave from now on, is that clear?'

'Yes, Mama.'

'Now, apologise first, Mary, because you're the older sister.'

Edith smirked a little, yet Cora gave her a stern look indeed.

'I'm sorry, Edith.'

'Now, it's your turn, Edith Crawley. You need to be grown up, too.'

'Yes, Mama. I'm sorry, Mary.'

'Now then,' said Cora, 'where did your baby sister go?'

At this, Matthew, who had been holding back with Sybil, made his way to the other sisters.

'Are those your big sisters?' he asked, not letting go of her hand as he looked at raven-haired Mary and ginger-curled Edith.

'Yeth, Maff'yew,' Sybil said. 'Mawee and Ee-diff. And dat-th my Mama.'

'Thank you, little cousin,' the boy smiled and indicated her to her mother.

Cora looked the handsome little fellow up and down; Matthew Crawley was taller than when she had last seen him. Sheepish and blushing, the lad bowed his head.

'You must be Cousin Matthew. Hallo, Matthew. We haven't seen you for a while! I suppose we've all been so busy…'

'Hallo, Cousin Cora. It's nice to see you.'

Young Matthew, definitely being appraised by his more aristocratic relation, gave her a nervous smile.

'I see you've run into Sybil. Do you remember your other cousins, Mary and Edith?'

'I do…' Matthew replied, not daring to breathe the further admission that his recollection was vague at best.

Indeed the Grantham Crawleys and the Manchester Crawleys did not move in the same circles; Isobel being a nurse, Matthew in school, and their cousins in their more rarefied society. How the diffident lad and the excitable girls might behave during this imminent dress rehearsal remained to be seen.