Very random one-shot about Lady Sybil as a child.
"Hello, Mrs Hughes."
Elsie, working on some papers at her desk, was surprised at the little voice behind her. No one had knocked at the door for one thing, but it was also higher and softer than the tones she was used to. She turned in her chair to find the only person in the house who would have the nerve to creep up on the housekeeper while she was doing her evening paperwork.
"Hello, my dear," she replied, seeing who her visitor was and immediately dismissing the chance of becoming cross, "Shouldn't you be in the nursery now?"
Lady Sybil, the youngest of the house at six years old, shook her head, politely but not without a hint of defiant refusal.
"Mary's been allowed to eat with the grown ups tonight and Edith won't let me play with her," she confessed, looking down at her shoes.
The six-year-old, Elsie thought, would grow up to be very pretty, with big eyes like that.
"So you should be, but you don't want to," Elsie surmised.
Sybil nodded guiltily, still looking at her feet. Giving her a half-exasperated smile, Elsie rolled her eyes and scooped her up so she could sit on the table. A pity about her hair, she thought, such a lovely mop of dark curls; they'll want that to straighten out to make it easier for her lady's maid when the time comes. The girl looked decidedly happier from her new vantage point.
"Do you want some hot chocolate?" she asked, and received the enthusiastic nod and grin she was expecting.
"Your tooth came out," she observed, going over to the fire to sort out the kettle.
"Yes," the child replied, "At lunchtime. It was wobbly for ages. Mary said she'd pull it out for me if I didn't shut up about it."
"Did she now?"
She could well believe it as well, Lord Grantham's other two daughters didn't quite seem blessed with the mellow spirit that the youngest was.
"Yes," Sybil continued, "And she sent Edith to find some string to tie it to the door."
Why on earth Mr Carson took such a shine to the eldest daughter was quite beyond her, thought it was possible that the child was exaggerating a little. But it was quite endearing really.
"There you go."
Elsie presented her with a mug of hot chocolate, which she accepted and drank gratefully.
"Mind you don't burn your mouth," Elsie warned her.
She began to drink more slowly.
"Mrs Hughes?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"Do you know Mr Carson?"
"Yes, I've worked with him for a long time."
Lady Sybil giggled a little at her joke.
"What about him?" Elsie asked.
"Do you like him?"
Heavens, Elsie thought, Miss O'Brien's put her up to this! But the child seemed quite genuine; and it was unlikely that Miss O'Brien had gone quite as far as to round up her employer's children to act as her agents in her meddling.
"Why do you ask?" Elsie enquired curiously, frowning a little.
Lady Sybil took a particularly large gulp of hot chocolate.
"He's scary," she mumbled, "He gets very cross when things aren't clean."
"That's his job," she told her gently, "He's supposed to make sure things are clean."
"I thought that was your job?" the little girl frowned.
"It is," Elsie conceded, "But it's a very big house; it's his job too. And he polishes the silver and waits on your mama and papa when the footman can't. He's a very nice gentleman really."
This only served to confuse the child further. She sat there on the table trying to frown her way through what the housekeeper had just said. Elsie raised her eyebrows a little to let her know that she would answer any questions.
"If he's a gentleman," the child began slowly, "Then why does he have a job at all? I heard Granny say to Mary that gentlemen don't have jobs."
That was a difficult one: how to explain to a six-year-old the difference between someone like her father who was born automatically into "gentility" and Charles Carson who earned the title through good character?
"The same word can mean two different things," she told her, "It can mean someone like your papa, he's a gentleman because he doesn't work, or someone like Mr Carson, who's a gentleman because he behaves well towards other people."
"Doesn't papa behave well to other people?" Sybil, mildly alarmed by the notion, wanted to know.
Elsie smiled a little.
"Yes, he does, but that's not what your grandmother was talking about."
"Why can papa be a gentleman just by not having a job?"
"Because he was born to be one," Elsie replied, without thinking about it at first.
When she did, however, reflect upon it, in its simplest terms, it doesn't sound fair at all. No wonder the child is confused by it. Taking it in, Sybil nodded slowly, taking another drink.
"Why does Mr Carson have a different job from you?"
"How do you mean?"
"Why does he wait on mama and papa when you don't?"
"That's just what the butler does, not the housekeeper."
"Will you be a butler one day, Mrs Hughes?" Sybil asked, quite seriously.
Elsie tried not to splutter with laughter.
"No dear, only men can be butlers."
Again, Lady Sybil looked at her knees, thinking through what she was being told.
"That's not fair," she concluded, as decidedly as only a child can.
"What's not?"
"That only men can be butlers. Why can't ladies?" the child asked pressingly.
It occurred to Elsie that she never so much as considered the matter.
"I'm not sure," she admitted, "I suppose men are better at handling things like silver polish and wine."
"Are they?" Lady Sybil pressed, "Is Mr Carson better than you at handling wine, Mrs Hughes?"
Elsie was hard pressed not to snort; there were comparatively few people in England better than her, in her youth, better than her at handling drink.
"I imagine we're about equal," Elsie answered, trying to keep her voice as level as possible.
"Then its not fair," Sybil announced, "If you're equally good you should do it one night and him the next."
How do you explain to a child that men and women aren't equal? How do you explain to a beautiful happy child like this that she'll be looked down upon and not taken seriously all her life because of something that she never got a say in?
"Mrs Hughes?" Elsie snapped to attention, "You look sad. Have I upset you?"
The child definitely had Lady Grantham's caring nature in her and for that Elsie gave her the best smile she could muster.
"No, dear, of course you haven't. Now, shall we go and get you some cake from Mrs Patmore before Ellen comes down to take you back to the nursery."
Lady Sybil nodded excitedly and extended her arms to be lifted down from the table.
Please review if you have the time.
