"What is so urgent?"
The question caused the other women in the drawing room to look up at the youngest Crawley daughter. Sybil had received a message, requesting her presence at the house. Leaving Little Sybbie with Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, Sybil had hurried to the drawing room. There, she found her mother, her grandmother, and her sister. They all looked tired and worn out.
Edith was the first to speak. "Mary refuses to eat. She hardly acknowledges the baby."
"She can hardly be blamed, Edith. She just lost her husband."
Sybil felt her stomach clench at her mother's response, but she pushed her feelings away. Her dear sister was hurting and she needed help. "What can I do?"
Her mother smiled softly at her. "We've all tried to talk to Mary, but she will not listen."
"She wouldn't even speak to me. And I know a thing or two about losing a husband." Despite Granny's effort, Sybil could hear the hurt behind her words.
"I'll try."
Sybil departed the drawing room and headed toward the baby's nursery. He was being fed when she walked in, but the nurse gladly handed him over. He fussed for a few moments, but Sybil's experience calmed him down quickly.
"Would you like to see your mama?" She whispered softly to the young babe as she carried him into the hallway and toward her sister's room. The baby looked up at her and yawned, causing Sybil to giggle. "You should go easy on her. She has lost quite a bit." Sybil pursed her lips to keep the tears at bay.
She knocked lightly on the bedroom door before opening it, peeking in to make sure her sister was decent. Mary was lying in her bed, her back toward the rest of the room. "Mary?" Sybil stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her.
"Sybil. I'm sure Granny and Mama put you up to this, and I will tell you what I told them. I do not want company. I do not want condolences. I simply want to be left alone."
"I'm afraid that I am not here for you." Sybil sat down on the edge of the bed, and the baby in her arms decided to make a noise. Mary turned quickly, looking down at her son before looking up at Sybil. Tears swam in her eyes and she reached a hand out to touch the baby's hand. "He needs you, Mary. I will not tell you that I understand what you're going through, because I do not. But your child needs you and as someone who has nearly lost her life, and left her child without a mother, I would never-ever-want to see Tom wallowing in his grief while our child needed him. I would not be able to rest in peace with the knowledge that Tom was neglecting our baby."
Mary sat up, the tears streaming down her cheeks now. "Give him here," she croaked, holding out her arms. Sybil handed the baby over, moving closer so that she was sitting next to Mary, a hand resting on her sister's arm.
"You don't have to go through this by yourself, Mary," Sybil whispered, resting her head on her shoulder. "We all loved Matthew. We are all grieving. Not as much as you, but we are."
"He was the love of my life," Mary confessed with a sob. "How am I supposed to do this without him? What will happen to our child? How can I ever tell this darling boy just how wonderful his father was?"
"We will all do it, Mary. This child will know his father. I promise you."