This is my Secret Santa fic for the lovely coffeebean87. Merry Christmas, darling! I hope you have a lovely time with your family and friends :)
The fic will have three chapters, each posted on a different day and with a different POV.
Three Days of Irish Christmas
Christmas Eve 1928 - Sybbie
Sybbie was thoroughly bored. First the ferry, then the train, now the car. Journeys to Downton were always long and tedious and if it weren't for the joys of meeting the Downton family, she wouldn't be so calm. Only the forthcoming pleasure of seeing her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins kept her in decent mood.
The car finally stopped by the manor's entrance. Sybbie quickly stepped out of the car after her parents and saw a whole welcoming committee standing in line before Downton's front door. There was Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Mary, Uncle Matthew and nanny holding little Vi, Aunt Edith, Uncle Bertie, Marigold and Annabel, and of course, Tiaa. Sybbie quickly ran to greet her Grandma first.
"How you've grown up since summer," said Cora Crawley tenderly as she hugged her eldest grandchild.
"I'm eight years old now, Nana," exclaimed Sybbie cheerfully, and once Cora released her from embrace, she excitedly ran to greet other members of the family.
Once greetings were over and everyone drank their tea, adults sat in the library by the table to talk about what was going on in their lives, while the children did the same in corner.
Sybbie loved her cousins - she was closest to George, who was just a year younger than her. Marigold was five years old and her sister Annabel was just a year old. Little Violet, nicknamed Vi, was a six months old baby. She was named after great-grandma Violet, who passed away merely eight months ago.
Sybbie would never openly admit it to everyone, but she was jealous that George and Marigold had younger siblings - she wasn't so lucky. When she was five, Mum and Daddy told her that she was going to have a brother and sister, but later informed her that her sibling changed his or her mind and wouldn't come.
The girl couldn't understand why siblings wanted to come to George and Marigold, but wouldn't come to her.
She sighed loudly as George and Marigold exchanged information about their small sisters. She had nothing to contribute in that conversation and felt left out.
Desperate to change the subject, Sybbie remarked: "Have you lit your Christmas candle for Mary and Joseph yet?"
"What?" exclaimed Marigold and George in unison.
"You don't light a candle and put it on the windowsill?" Sybbie asked.
"We have candles in wreaths, but not on the windowsill," George explained.
Sybbie took her cousins' hands and led them to where adults were sitting.
"Uncle Matthew, Aunt Mary, why you don't have a candle for Joseph and Mary in the window?" Sybbie inquired.
"What?" Mary and Matthew were as surprised as Marigold and George earlier.
Mr. and Mrs. Branson, though, merely laughed at this.
"It's an Irish Christmas tradition," Tom explained. "We practice it every year at our home."
"Mama, Papa, please can we have a candle too?" George interjected.
"Please, Auntie, please," Marigold supported her cousin.
"Ask Grandpa Robert," Matthew decided. "He still decides on traditions here."
Sybbie knew what she had to do. She was her Grandpa's favourite grandchild; everyone said so.
If Grandpa was to relent and allow an Irish tradition at his home, it was up to her to convince him.
"Donk," the eight-year-old said sweetly as she took Robert Crawley's hand. "Please let me show Marigold and George our Christmas tradition. It's like having a part of home here..."
"Sybbie, dear, but you're our guests now, and you have a chance to learn our traditions..." Robert tried to convince his granddaughter.
But Sybbie was not the one to easily give up. "I'll learn English traditions too. I know many, actually. Mummy taught me because at our home we practice both traditions. So it's totally possible to practice both. And why should Marigold and George not learn Irish traditions too?"
Robert sighed. He couldn't find any more arguments. It was clear that he needed to relent. And frankly, he wanted to.
One of the maids brought several candles so that the children could select the one they wanted to put on the windowsill themselves. The selection process wasn't the easiest since all three were quite opinionated and had differing tastes. When George and Marigold were quarrelling over candles with red and golden ribbons, Sybbie pondered how to end this dispute. She personally favoured a candle with a blue ribbon, but something needed to be done soon.
Little Miss Branson raised her hand. "I've got an idea. Since this is an Irish tradition, what about a green ribbon? To honour tradition?"
George sighed. "All right, but we'll place it in my room."
"But why in your room?" Marigold whined. "You always want everything for yourself!"
Sybbie needed to interject once more. "Listen, Marigold. Let him have this candle. Someone needs to light it and extinguish it, right? Tradition says it should be a girl named Mary. Let Auntie Mary light the candle, but you'll extinguish it since your name is similar."
Marigold nodded her agreement and grinned proudly at being assigned such an important task.
When Mary came to George's room light the candle selected by the children, she was surprised just how excited they were about such a small thing.
All three of them gathered around the windowsill and Sybbie reverently placed a candle there (her cousins allowed her to have her share in fun, too).
Aunt Mary lit the candle energetically and unsentimentally, and as a flame began flickering and reflecting in the window, she extinguished all the other lights in the room.
As Sybbie looked at the only source of light in the room, she remembered St. Francis of Assisi's words that Father Morgan used last week in church - "All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish a single candle".
"And there's always hope", Sybbie thought. "There's always light at the end of the tunnel."
She prayed quietly for her heart's biggest desire.
"Sybbie, Marigold, it's time for you to go to your beds. It's an important day tomorrow, after all," Mary reminded them and quietly gestured towards the door. Sybbie and Marigold obediently directed their steps there, but when Aunt Mary turned on electric lights, Sybbie looked behind her shoulder in the direction of the window.
The candle was still the brightest source of light in the room.