Just a few hours earlier Marigold Pelham, daughter of the seventh Marquess and Marchioness of Hexham had lived a happy and peaceful life.
Then her mother had told her about her birth and her real father.
And everything had changed.
...
Chaos was the only way to describe the turmoil in her mind. Papa was not her Papa. Her real Papa was a man called Michael Gregson! Such a horrible name! Well, Gregson that is, Michael was OK, perhaps, or at least very common.
Marigold had always wondered a bit about her birth because she could remember her parents' wedding.
She had never expected to hear the horrible things she was told, though - that Papa wasn't her real papa, that Mama had left her for two months in Switzerland when she was just a little baby, and then again to a family in a cottage at Downton until she was almost two. That was when Granny Cora had found out about her and she was finally allowed to move into the nursery at Downton.
Marigold didn't remember any of this, of course, but it all sounded very frightening for a little baby or a toddler.
...
What had she thought really? Marigold wondered. That her parents had been together a long time ago and just hadn't got around to marry until many years later?
Yes, something like that, Marigold had to admit. That was what she had thought. Especially since people used to tell her how very much she took after her Papa. Her two brothers both looked much more like Mama, almost the same colours and features.
...
Marigold realised she partly had herself to blame for being told - she had actually asked Mama why she and Papa hadn't married until she was nearly three years old. Something had been strange, but she hadn't understood what until now.
Marigold remembered Sybbie telling her before the wedding that she was going to get a very good Papa. Better than George's new one, but of course not quite as good as Sybbie's own Papa. Sybbie liked that the two Papas had played Punch and Judy for them.
So, of course, Marigold ought to have understood long ago that her Papa wasn't the real one.
...
"How dared you!" Marigold had shouted at her mother, tears filling her eyes. "How could you leave me like that? A little baby among total strangers? You don't love me! I will never speak to you again!"
And before her mother had a chance to answer, Marigold had run away and locked herself up in her room.
...
At first Marigold had been mostly angry, thinking out ways to let Mama suffer for abandoning her like that. Then, as the hours went by and nobody came to her room, she got less and less angry and more and more sad.
At last she started to be more hungry than anything else. But she didn't want to give them the pleasure of coming down without being asked.
So she just remained in her bed, hour after hour, hungry, angry and sad.
...
And then, finally, someone knocked at her door.
Marigold decided not to forgive Mama too easily. But of course she would forgive her.
But it still wasn't Mama. It was Papa. The papa whom she had just been told wasn't her real Papa.
"Please Marigold, let me in", he said, very softly.
"Go away!" Marigold shouted. "I don't need you! You are not my real Papa! I'm sure you don't love me."
It was very quiet outside the door for a long, long time. Marigold started to fear that Papa had really gone away.
"I do love you", she finally heard him say. He was sounding a bit hurt. "Never doubt that. And I have been your real father since you were three. I have enjoyed every minute of that."
There was a long silence again. Marigold didn't know how to answer. It is difficult to harden your heart against someone who is nothing but kind and friendly.
"Never mind about that for now, we can speak about it later on", Papa continued. "I have brought someone to see you. Someone who is your real sister. Mama gave birth to her just a little while ago."
Oh! Marigold thought. She had secretly hoped that the new baby would be a sister.
And this did explain why Mama hadn't had time to come to see her.
So she got up from her bed and walked to the door on trembling legs. She unlocked the door and opened it, not caring that Papa would see all the tears on her cheeks.
Outside Papa was standing, smiling lovingly at her. But the best thing was what he had in his arms.
It was the smallest and sweetest little baby Marigold had ever seen.
AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for all the friendly reviews to last chapter!