A/N: A lot of the time I get sad about Sybil, so I go and read nice happy fics to make it all go away. And then sometimes, in little happy moments, I find fics on my laptop - that I wrote, years ago - filled with a pre-married Sybil's innocence. And they make me so happy that I get sad again. I'm a very fickle, complicated person emotionally, okay?

This one, though, I felt I had to share. Young Sybil was just so cute and sweet and wonderful. Of course, she continued to be so, only more mature and world-weary. So I love little moments like this. Please do enjoy reminiscing with me.


Eventually Sybil left the hospital with Branson upon her mothers orders, if a little reluctantly. She had to admit to herself that she was curious to meet Sir Richard Carlisle and she was eager to see her aunt again. Sending Branson off to her mother's wrath didn't seem quite fair either.

On the way, she asked Branson about Richard Carlisle, knowing he would have picked them up from the station.

"Honest opinion?" he replied.

"Golly, is he that bad?"

Laughing, he shook his head. "No, he isn't that bad. Not very friendly though. Didn't spare more than two words for your aunt."

"Oh dear, poor Rosamund! She's such a talkative creature – imagine a whole train ride from London without a word!" Sybil said, a hint of mockery to her tone.

"She did talk to me and her maid an awful lot."

"I can imagine," Sybil giggled, "Now it's you I feel sorry for."

Arriving a Downton, the girl saw her aunt by the door and Carson just behind her. As Sybil descended from the car, Rosamund came rushing over to her, arms outstretched. Before the older woman reached her, Sybil winked at Branson knowingly and giggled as she watched him fight a grin.

"Sybil! How wretched of you to only come as the dressing gong rings! I was hoping to see all of my beautiful nieces upon arrival and – lo and behold! – you were up to your elbows in wounded soldiers! Oh dear, that sounds rather risque," Sybil giggled again as her aunt continued to babble about all sorts of nonsensical things. Glancing back, she caught a returning wink from Branson before being steered inside by Rosamund.


Before dinner, Sybil took the chance to inspect Mary's supposed beau. To Sybil's eyes he was nothing special and certainly not warm and charismatic as she would want her beau to be, with no sense of humour. Not like Branson...

Before those thoughts could go any further, Sybil leaned toward her aunt conspiratorially.

"What do you think Mary sees in him?" she said in a low tone.

"Besides the money you mean?"

"It must be more than that." Sybil couldn't believe that of her sister. Surely she had more respect for herself – after all the suitors she has turned down in the past – than to pursue interest in a man solely for his money.

"For you, maybe. But not for her," her aunt returned. I should certainly hope so, for me, Sybil thought, but surely for Mary as well? They both looked over at the people in question for a moment before Rosamund turned back to her.

"I say, that chauffeur of yours is rather lively, isn't he?" Sybil froze, immediately suspicious and ready to rebuff.

Putting on her best Mary-mask, Sybil replied, "I'm sorry?"

"Well," her aunt seemed convinced – Sybil had learnt from the best, after all, "I was speaking to him from the station and he's rather lively, isn't he? What was the name of that last one?"

"Taylor?" Sybil tried not to answer too quickly. It wouldn't do for her aunt to think there was anything significant to do with the chauffeurs.

"Oh yes, dear Taylor! He was a sweet man but ever so dull," Rosamund leaned even closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "And I must say, this Irish one is rather dashing, isn't he?"

Whereas Mary could make it look as though nothing surprised her, Sybil was not yet so attuned. So a somewhat shocked look appeared on her face at her aunt's words. Thankfully, though, Rosamund didn't know the real reason behind her shock and took it to mean that her niece was shocked at her behaviour.

If only she knew... Sybil thought.

"Oh my dear, don't get me wrong! He is handsome for a servant. I merely said it because it's usually the footmen who are the handsome ones, not the chauffeurs."

"Rosamund, you are silly sometimes," Sybil laughed in an attempt to brush it off. At the same time, she was calling herself all kinds of silly because she thought, just for a second there, that she might have felt some jealousy at her aunt's words.

All kinds of silly.

"I know," Rosamund waved an arm absently. "I need to find another husband. Maybe then I'll stop talking nonsense."

Using laughter at her words to regain her composure, Sybil carefully steered the topic in other directions and soon forgot about it. That is, until she was alone again that night. Then she thought about it long and hard.

Needless to say, she didn't get much sleep...


A/N: SOB.

That is all.