Sorry for the delay! I've been a busy little beaver with my other fics too, but here it is, another update and things continue progressing! I know many of you are eager for the two Toms to come into the scene; patience gentle readers, their time will come and soon, but everything needs to be set up just before that happens ;o) In the meantime I hope you enjoy this chapter as we learn a bit more about Sarah's background, and as a realization is finally made. ENJOY!

Chapter Seven

Sarah bit her bottom lip as she stood across the lane, facing the church yard that lay ahead. She kept shifting back and forth nervously, her hands folded and clasped in front of her, her palms sweating inside her gloves as she stared ahead. Why am I doing this? I should leave; I should turn around right now and go back to the Grantham Arms! This is ridiculous! And yet every time she turned her body to go back in the direction she had come, something would stop her from taking the steps, asking her over and over, but aren't you just a little bit curious…?

She had lost track as to how long she had been standing there. Long after the last church service for the day had ended. Although Lady Sybil's letter hadn't mentioned a specific time, Sarah assumed it wouldn't be during morning services. Sunday afternoons tended to be quiet at the Grantham Arms, and was really the only day when any of the staff could manage to slip away for an hour or two. There were several famers in the village who were sweet on Edna, and often flirted with her and asked her to go for walks with them. Edna wasn't serious about any of them, but she loved the attention, and quite often left Sarah to do all the chores on Sunday. Still, things were slow enough that before she realized she had made her mind up about whether or not to answer Lady Sybil's letter, she found herself asking Mrs. Patmore that morning, if she could slip out for an hour, sometime after two o'clock.

"Don't see why not," the cook muttered as she set about making the tea cakes. "Sunday lunch has been taken care of, and tea around here is never a grand affair, even on Sunday."

Still, Sarah promised she would only be gone for an hour, hoping that perhaps by limiting her time, she would be able to force herself in making a decision; to meet Lady Sybil or not…indeed, that was the question.

And even after reaching the church, she still didn't have an answer.

This is silly, she thought to herself. You didn't walk half-way across the village just to stand here and gape! But why did Lady Sybil want to speak to her? Why had she insisted that they meet? She said she would be there alone, but would she? However, Sarah found herself frowning at the thought of Lady Sybil lying in wait with the village constable hiding in the shadows, ready to arrest her for…what? Looking like Lady Sybil? Hadn't the two of them laughed yesterday at the silly notion?

She barely knew the youngest daughter to the Earl of Grantham…and yet…Sarah did not think Lady Sybil the sort who would try to lure her and trick her and purposefully bring any harm upon her. She couldn't quite understand why, but for some reason…Sarah felt a strange connection to the woman…and knew that it was because of that connection, that had brought her to the church yard in the first place.

Just go…pick a direction, be it to cross the lane or turn around, but pick one and take a step and whichever direction you step towards, do not stop until you either return to the Grantham Arms, or find Lady Sybil Crawley.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes…and did just that.

Sybil silently cursed herself as she tried to keep herself from pacing back and forth. Why hadn't she thought to mention a specific time as to when they should meet? She realized that early this morning, when she awoke after a very restless night, her anxieties about this potential meeting, as well as all the information she had managed to gather since Friday's flower show, barely allowing her much sleep the night before. Instead of walking back to Downton with her family after church was over, she told them she wished to take a walk through the village, a walk by herself. Her mother looked concerned, but Sybil put on a reassuring smile, and said she would be back in time for tea, and then turned on her heel and made it look like she was taking the stroll she had told them, only to circle around the village hall, before returning to the church yard…and proceeding to wait.

And so she waited. For nearly three hours.

It wasn't Sarah's fault, though; Sybil didn't blame the hotel maid at all for keeping her waiting—how could she? She simply told Sarah where and the day on which to meet her, but never specifically, the when. A fine schemer she was turning out to be.

She sighed as she shifted uncomfortably on the stone bench in the church yard. She had spent the first hour of her vigil standing, craning her neck whenever she thought she heard someone passing by. Eventually she sat down, but the bench was no more comfortable than idly standing for long hours. Was she coming? Her mind went back to the letter she had written; had she said anything to cause the poor woman worry? She had assured her that she would be waiting in the church yard alone, hoping that would squash any anxieties, but maybe her tone had come across too forceful? Oh gracious, what if William hadn't gotten the letter to Sarah? When she had gone to the Mason's farm and found the former footman, he had explained that he didn't know a hotel maid named Sarah, but he would make sure that she received the letter. But what if something had happened? What if William had seen Sarah and thought it was all some strange joke, that Sarah was Sybil? Oh Lord, this was all a tremendous mess! She should have gone directly to the Grantham Arms—she still could do that! But…but then everyone would realize that Sybil and Sarah were identical, and for some reason, Sybil wasn't ready to reveal that to the world just yet, at least not without talking to Sarah first! Maybe she was ill? Maybe she couldn't get away from her work? Maybe she—

A snap of a twig underfoot caused Sybil to whip her head and bolt to her feet. "Hello?"

Silence.

And then, slowly and quietly emerging from behind a tree, came the very person Sybil had been waiting for.

"Oh Sarah!" she gasped, a smile quickly spreading across her face and a shaky breath of relief escaping her lungs. "You came…"

Sarah blushed but smiled and nodded her head. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting—"

"Oh never mind that!" Sybil laughed, so relieved and happy that she was there at all. "It's my own fault, I never specifically said 'when'; but you're here! And I'm so glad that you did come."

Sarah looked down at her feet and blushed, before quickly brushing a fallen curl behind her ear. However, there was a genuine smile on her face, and it warmed Sybil's heart to see that despite the obvious nervousness on the young woman's face, she didn't seem to regret coming.

"Well…" Sarah began, lifting her eyes bashfully up. "What…what was it that you wished to speak to me about, milady?"

Sybil shook her head. "Oh please, call me Sybil?" she asked, hoping Sarah would. If what she believed was true, Sarah should be the last person referring to her as "milady". "And…well, there's something I would like to show you, but…but before I do, may I ask you something?"

Sarah's brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded her head. "Of course, mila—I mean…Sybil," she corrected herself, which earned a small giggle between the both of them.

"Well…" Sybil began, not quite sure how to ask the question without being forthright. "How old are you?"

Sarah's eyes widened slightly, but she did look offended in the slightest. "Twenty-two," she answered.

Same age. "And…your birthday?"

Sarah frowned slightly. "My birthday?"

"Yes, when is your birthday?" Please say the tenth of June; please say the tenth of June!

Sarah's face reddened and she lowered her eyes as if…as if she were ashamed. Oh no, Sybil thought, her breath catching at the girl's sudden change in demeanor. Had she gone too far? It was an innocent question, but…perhaps she had pushed too hard? The last thing she wanted was to frighten Sarah away!

"I um…well…" Sarah murmured, shifting uncomfortably. "I…I don't know, milady."

Sybil frowned. "You…you don't know when your birthday is?" she asked, trying to clarify Sarah's answer.

She looked so embarrassed and Sybil felt horrible for causing that feeling. "No…I…I don't," Sarah confirmed. "I…well…I mean, I know it's sometime in June," Sarah tried to explain. "But…I…" she paused again and looked down at the ground. "What I'm trying to say is…my mum, she…she died when I was very little."

Sybil's eyes widened at Sarah's words. Who was this woman? Was she truly Sarah's birth mother? Or…was it possible that Sarah's birth mother was much closer than the young woman realized?

"How young were you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sarah sighed. "Less than four," she sadly whispered. "Typhoid Fever," she explained. "I don't remember her very much, except…" there was a pause in her voice, and from what Sybil could see, whatever memory her words had stirred were causing Sarah some difficulty in expressing. "Except…" she took a deep breath before continuing. "…She was always sad."

Sybil's heart went out to the hotel maid, and she felt a strong urge to step forward and take the girl's hand in hers, but stopped herself, not sure if the gesture would be welcomed. "Why…" she tentatively asked. "Why was she always sad?"

Sarah didn't say anything at first, but she quietly walked forward, until she was standing just next to Sybil, and then quietly took a seat on the bench that Sybil had been sitting on while she waited. Sybil quickly sat next to her, and patiently waited for Sarah to share her story, wanting to learn everything that she could.

"I…I'm from Liverpool, you see," she began. "And my father was a fisherman. He was away a great deal of the time, I barely saw him. And…and when he was home, he um…he didn't like to stay at the house, if he could avoid it."

Sybil frowned at this. "Why?"

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know, really. But…but I can't help but think it had something to do with me," she mumbled. "He never liked looking at me; never smiled, never said anything kind," she explained. "I…I know it sounds cruel, but I didn't mind when he was away. Frankly, I preferred it. But not mum," she murmured sadly.

Sybil listened in shock, saddened by Sarah's words. Good heavens, it sounded positively awful! She suddenly felt very ashamed for all those times she thought her own life was horrid, because she wasn't being allowed to go and work as a nurse. But compared to what sounded like the harsh upbringing that Sarah endured, Sybil suddenly realized how fortunate she was.

"My mother loved my father, very much," Sarah continued. "She always tried to please him, tried to do things to make him happy, to make him stay on land longer, or stay in the house as opposed to going to the pub," her eyes drifted forward, as if she were reliving the memory and seeing everything played out before her. "The strongest memories I have of my mum are of her sitting by the window, staring out at the docks, waiting…waiting for my father to come home; waiting and crying."

"So that's why she was always so sad," Sybil whispered, understanding now what Sarah had meant.

Sarah nodded her head and looked down at her folded hands, resting atop her lap. "Mum died while he was away at sea. I didn't understand; she became very sick and the doctor said I had to go away, but I had no family nearby—the closest being some aunt that lived somewhere in Yorkshire, but who I had never met, even though apparently I was named after her," Sarah explained.

Sybil perked up at this. Sarah had been named after someone in Yorkshire? Of course, who could that be? It wasn't an uncommon name, and Yorkshire was a vast county. Still, it pointed to the possibility that despite what Sarah had said about coming from Liverpool, she had originally come from Yorkshire. That, and the fact that her birthday was sometime in June, just like Sybil's, and that they were both the same age.

The evidence was climbing.

"Where did you go to stay?" Sybil quietly asked, watching Sarah closely.

Sarah's fingers played with a piece of thread from the sleeve of her coat. "There was a neighbor woman who sometimes looked after me, when mum went to find my father, after learning that his boat had docked several days before. But she had seven children, and couldn't afford to keep me for very long. And since my father was away so often…I was sent to a charity school, just outside of Liverpool."

"Charity school?" Sybil gasped. "You mean…like an orphanage?"

Sarah bit her lip but shook her head. "No, it…it wasn't like that, although there were many girls there who didn't have families," she sighed. "It was run by the Church, and…and was a safe place, for us to go. I mean, I learned how to read and write; nothing fancy, I don't know how to speak Latin or French, but we were lucky; once a month someone would even come in to teach us singing and drawing. And every so often, we would have dance lessons too!"

Sybil's heart squeezed for the woman sitting beside her. She felt more ashamed than ever for all the things she had taken for granted with her education. Although in truth, Sarah's school sounded a great deal more interesting than the various governesses she had had, growing up.

"We were taught how to cook, clean, and mend as well," Sarah explained. "Basically how to…well, how to work in service, you see. Because the school only kept girls until they were fourteen. By that time it was expected that you find a job."

"Gracious," Sybil whispered. "So…so you've been working in service all this time?"

Sarah nodded. "I started as a scullery maid for a family in Liverpool. Then two years later, I worked as a kitchen maid, and then became a housemaid, and just when the War started, I served a large house not very far from here."

"And now you work at the Grantham Arms."

Sarah nodded. "It's a good job," she murmured, putting on a smile, although Sybil could tell there was another emotion underneath it, one that she was trying to hide. She was tempted to ask Sarah for the name of the house where she had served before coming to the Grantham Arms, as well as why she worked at the village inn, but held her tongue, knowing she had already pried a great deal from the maid. Yet still, there was something that Sarah was keeping, some sort of secret that she clearly didn't want to share, at least not yet.

"And…your father?" Sybil had noticed that Sarah never mentioned what became of the man after she had been sent away to school. She had a feeling that he made very little, if any contact with her.

"He died while I was at school," Sarah murmured, her head still bowed. "I was told he drowned, but…well, I wouldn't be surprised if that's what he wanted the Church to believe, so he wouldn't be asked to help pay for my stay there," she shrugged her shoulders, showing that there clearly was no love lost between herself and this man who had the title of "father" in her life. "He never wrote to me or visited me; the last time I ever saw him was before mum died."

"Oh Sarah…" Sybil was shaking, her fists clenched in anger at the life this woman—her possible twin—had been forced to live. A life robbed of love and filled with unjust and unfair hardship. She wanted to hug her, while at the same time rage beside her at whoever had snatched her away from the life she could have had, beside her, growing up at Downton as her twin sister.

Upon hearing Sybil's tone, Sarah whipped her head towards her and suddenly rose to her feet, shaking her head vehemently. "Please don't pity me, milady," she begged, although there was a harsh edge to her voice. "I don't deserve it, nor do I feel sorry for myself. My life could have been great deal worse! But I was lucky; most of my teachers at the school were good Christian people, and most of the jobs I've kept were decent enough. I never starved, I never begged, I have never found myself in a situation with absolutely no hope. I'm lucky, really! So please…don't pity me."

Any tears that she might have shed for Sarah were quickly swallowed, and Sybil nodded her head, forcing a smile as well as a look of understanding, or so she hoped. If truth were told, she was amazed by Sarah, amazed that someone who had every right to be angry and perhaps disillusioned by the world seemed so positive and kind. She was strong, and Sybil envied that strength. Indeed, just as she was looking up at Sarah now as she stood beside their bench, she truly did look up to the young woman, hoping that one day she could be as courageous and wise as her.

"I…I'm sorry," Sarah murmured, looking down at her feet again.

Sybil's brow furrowed. "You're sorry? Whatever for?"

Sarah blushed slightly. "For telling you all that; I didn't mean to unburden myself upon you—not that I think my life was a tremendous burden, mind you, I…what I mean is…" she was stumbling over herself, and Sybil quickly rose from the bench, and without a second's thought, reached out and took Sarah's hands in hers.

"You have nothing to apologize for; I should be apologizing to you! I told you I merely wanted to ask you one simple question, and ended up demanding all sorts of answers—"

"You didn't demand anything, milady—"

"Sybil, please."

Sarah blushed but nodded and smiled. "Sybil," she repeated. "No, no, you…you didn't demand anything, I…I didn't mind, really, I just…" she looked down at their clasped hands for the first time and Sybil held her breath, wondering if Sarah would try to pull free. "I don't know, it just…" she looked up into Sybil's eyes then. "This might sound strange but…it felt right, telling you."

Sybil smiled and gently squeezed Sarah's hands. "No, that doesn't sound strange at all."

The two of them smiled, still holding hands and looking at each other, and that feeling, that connection that Sybil had felt the first time they locked eyes and saw one another felt stronger than ever before. It must be true…surely it must be true!

"You said…you wanted to show me something?" Sarah asked, somewhat shyly.

Sybil nodded and still holding one of Sarah's hands, turned and led her through the church yard, passing many old and crumbling headstones, some small, some large, until they reached the center of the church yard, where an oak grove lay, the very oak grove Sybil had mentioned in her letter to Sarah.

"This is the Crawley family plot," she explained. "The oldest stone is over there," she pointed to one that was sunken deep into the earth near one of the trees. "And my grandfather, who was the 4th Earl of Grantham, is buried there." A large stone cross seemed to dominate the grove, and Sarah's eyes widened as she looked at the grave and all the ones that surrounded it. She didn't say anything, but she looked at Sybil with confusion, not sure why she was being shown all of this. "Over here," Sybil murmured, leading Sarah then to a small area of the grove, where two headstones resided, both named but neither occupied.

"Robert and Cora Crawley," Sarah read the names herself.

"The current Earl and Countess of Grantham," Sybil explained.

Sarah turned to look at Sybil with questioning eyes. "Your parents?"

Sybil nodded. "That's right…" she took a deep breath, and looking at Sarah finally spoke what she had been thinking ever since yesterday. "And…and yours too."

Sarah's eyes had wandered back to the stones, but her head whipped around and looked at Sybil with wide, confused eyes full of shock and surprise. "What…what did you say?"

Sybil gripped Sarah's hand, not wanting to let go and lose her now that they were here. "I know this is going to sound absolutely mad, but…please, hear me out," she pointed then to a tiny stone that lay between the two larger stones that bared her parent's names. "See that?" she asked.

Sarah nodded, but her breathing was growing heavier, and she was starting to feel a little light-headed.

"The tenth of June is my birthday," Sybil explained, her hand never letting go of Sarah's. "It also happens to be the birthday…of my twin sister."

Sarah's eyes went even wider and she stared at Sybil, her face paling as the words washed over her.

Sybil turned to fully face Sarah, her hands now gripping the girl's shoulders and forcing her to look at her. "I was born first, just a few minutes before her," she went on. "She was very weak; the doctor didn't think she would survive the night. My parents never saw her; she was taken from them before they could even lay eyes on her."

"Sybil—"

"We were identical twins!" she continued. "The doctor didn't see the baby die, he was told that a baby had died sometime in the night, but the only person who knows the full truth, the nurse who spent the night with the baby, is dead now as well."

"It can't be—"

"But what if it is!?" Sybil's voice was rising with desperation. She wanted Sarah to believe her; that this entire idea wasn't as mad as perhaps it sounded. "How else can you explain that we look exactly alike? Or that we're the same age? And even though you don't know your birthday, you know that you were born in June—"

"But I'm from Liverpool!"

"You were raised in Liverpool, but maybe you were born someplace else? You said so yourself that you had an aunt from Yorkshire, an aunt you were named after! What if your mother came from here? What if she…" she paused, not wanting to sound cruel and imply that the woman who had raised Sarah, at least for the three and a half years of her life, had kidnapped her and taken her from her rightful home, but what other explanation could there be?

Sarah was trembling and shaking her head. "No, no, I…I…it's not possible, I…I'm not…" she looked at Sybil then and her eyes widened even more as a realization seemed to strike her. "I…I'm a housemaid…not…not a Lady."

"Sarah…" Sybil hands moved once again, from Sarah's shoulders now to holding and cupping her face. "We have the same eyes, the same hair, the same complexions; we're even the same height! Physically speaking, we're identical in every way!"

"But…" Sarah's eyes darted to the small stone that had no name. "But…but a baby was buried."

Sybil bit her lip, knowing this was the tricky part, the part that didn't make sense. "Yes, I…I did go and speak to the doctor yesterday, to try and learn more. A baby did die that night and a baby was buried, but…but maybe it wasn't my sister," she whispered, once again holding Sarah's gaze. "Maybe…something happened, and…and my sister went to go and live in Liverpool while another child was buried amongst the Crawley family."

Sarah stared back at her and Sybil held her breath, not sure exactly how the other would respond. She had tried to be as gentle as possible, but at the same time, no one wanted to learn that the life they had been living all this time was quite possibly a lie.

Silence passed between them, until Sarah opened her mouth and murmured, so softly that Sybil barely heard her, "my father always did believe I was another man's child…"

She stared back at Sybil and the two held each other's gazes for a long time. And then…slowly…tears began to fall down Sarah's cheeks. And Sybil's soon followed after.

And without another word, the two women were embracing, hugging each other tightly, crying upon each other's shoulders, clinging to one another as they wept over the lost years spent apart and the wonderful realization of what they had somehow discovered, thanks to a lost child at a village flower show.

"I…" Sarah hiccupped, pulling away slightly and gazing back at Sybil, a tearful smile spreading across her face. "I…I always wanted a sister."

Sybil couldn't help but laugh and nod her head. "That's good to know, because you have two more as well, named Edith and Mary."

Sarah's eyes widened at this. "Oh Lord…the woman who was calling for you at the flower show? She's one of them?"

Sybil nodded. "Lady Edith Strallan; she's also the mother of my—I mean, our niece, the child who found you and—"

"And who thought I was you," Sarah finished, smiling at the memory of the little blonde girl who had tugged on the hem of her dress and had called her "Auntie Thybil".

Sybil nodded. "Mary, our eldest sister, recently married our cousin Matthew, who is Papa's heir. Oh Sarah, they will be coming home soon! This is wonderful; you'll get to meet them all!"

Her words suddenly caused Sarah to pale once more and her knees nearly buckled at the thought. "No…no, no, I…I couldn't."

Sybil looked confused. "What do you mean? They're your family too."

But Sarah shook her head again. "This suddenly seems so overwhelming; I…I mean…I can't believe it!"

Now it was Sybil's turn to pale. "Oh Sarah, please…I…I know this a great deal to accept and take in, but…but please, surely you believe that we are twins, don't you? I mean…besides the fact that we look so alike, I…I have felt the strangest and yet most wonderful connection—"

"So have I," Sarah confessed, looking at Sybil with sincere, loving eyes.

Sybil smiled at this, her vision blurring once again with tears. "Really?"

Sarah nodded, but before losing herself once again to her emotions began to shake her head once more. "But…but I…I can't meet them, I mean…what if they don't believe us? I know you said they never saw the baby, but…but you said so yourself, a baby is buried there, we have no concrete proof that I am a Crawley. What if they think I'm some sort of imposter? Oh Lord, what if they call the police?"

Sybil vehemently shook her head. "They won't, and even if they did, I'm not going to let anyone part us again."

Sarah blushed and smiled at Sybil's passionate declaration, but she still felt uneasy about the whole idea of meeting Lord and Lady Grantham and everyone else connected to the Crawley family, even if they were, technically, her family as well.

"I…I just…I don't know…" she confessed, knowing that she no doubt sounded foolish, but the truth was, she was terrified. Her life had literally changed in a matter of minutes! She had come to this church yard believing she was the daughter of a drunken fisherman, and now she would be leaving it with the knowledge that she very well could possibly be the daughter of the 5th Earl of Grantham! But it was one thing to walk away with this knowledge, and quite another to possibly go and change lives! She didn't know the first thing about being an aristocrat! And what would she say to Mr. Yardley? To Daisy and Mrs. Patmore? Even if it sounded trivial compared to everything else, she hated the thought of just…leaving all of them in the lurch like that.

"Sarah…"

She looked up at Sybil then, and saw that her sister (Lord that sounded so strange, and yet at the same time, it seemed so perfect as well) was looking at her with an expression of one who was plotting and planning something.

"I think I have an idea on how to help 'ease you' into your new family…"