Hey guys! Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews – they spur me on so much. I hope this chapter is alright – think of it as a montage episode, and all should be well!

Sparki: I own nothing!

The man was a monster; a gigantic, blubber-like monster, which simply opened its mouth, and all that surrounded it would disappear into the great, gaping void that was its belly. The stomach, if one could identify such a thing as part of the human anatomy, rolled this way and that as the man consumed one dish after another. Every time he laughed, or barely contained a thunderous belch, his coat buttons seemed to tremble beneath the pressure. They struggled to keep a tight hold of one another. At any moment, they appeared as though they might burst.

Sybbie, of course, knew no decent way of putting words to these thoughts. And so, she sat silently, still in her chair, unable to tear her gaze from the ogre of a man who slouched across from her. She knew that George was watching as well, but so transfixed on his munching mouth was she, Sybbie could not look away, not even to meet her cousin's disturbed eyes. She just stared.

Jonathan Higgs seemed oblivious to the children's horrified fascination. He continued to guzzle food, as though this feast at Downton was the last he would ever attend. He ate as a man on death row; letting no morsel remain unnoticed, no crumb remain untouched. Sybbie, despite herself, felt a giggle threatening to escape her closely guarded lips. When it did, no one noticed, much to the girl's relief. And so, she looked down at her plate, pretending to be suddenly absorbed in her meal.

Although, she mused silently, who could possibly eat, when presented with such a display?

"Lord Grantham," Mr. Higgs boomed, through a mouthful of meat, "my compliments to your cook." He jabbed a sausage-like finger at his steaming plate. "This food is amongst the most delectable I have had the honour to sample." At this – this word 'sample' – Sybbie caught Aunt Mary stifle an amused snort. Aunt Edith too appeared to find this proclamation to hold a degree of humour. Where he sat at the head of the grand table, Sybbie's grandfather gave a modest nod.

"Thank you, Mr. Higgs," he murmured through a tight-lipped smile. "I'll see that Mrs. Patmore receives your thanks." Mr. Higgs nodded, and returned to his meal. Sybbie could see that her grandfather was fighting keep the disdain from his soft features. Her grandmother, on the other hand, didn't dare try. Sitting next to the bulbous man, Lady Grantham simply looked away, and engaged herself in a strained conversation with Aunt Mary, who complied, a sympathetic sparkle in her eyes.

The child was staring at him.

Jonathan Higgs didn't like it. The girl – a little thing, barely a thing at all was she – watched him with a curiously intelligent, unflinching gaze. As he lifted yet another spoonful of delectable soup to his waiting lips, the child's dark eyes followed his every movement. Swallowing the steaming liquid, Higgs frowned. He didn't like this child.

And the child didn't like him. This much, he could tell.

"Alfred, take the kipper!" Swinging around, Daisy placed the tray of cold fish into her beau's waiting arms. The footman held it carefully, his gloved fingers grasping tight. He smiled down at Daisy. Despite her flurry, the young cook grinned back. In a moment of bubbling happiness, Alfred leant down, and placed a small kiss upon Daisy's reddened cheek. She swatted him away.

"Off with you, then!" she commanded, but her smile was undisguised. Alfred winked at her, and raced for the stairs. The tray in his hand remained steady.

"Where is James?"

Thomas jumped. The thunderous voice of Mr. Carson echoed down the corridor. Turning on his heel, Thomas watched as the butler stormed around the corner, followed closely by a trembling Jameson. The lad looked to Thomas with wide, frightened eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Barrow!" he squeaked, clutching at the lapels of his livery. "I didn't m-mean to drop it! I really didn't!" Thomas frowned, before throwing a questioning gaze to Carson. The man's face was dark, like the sky before a coming storm.

"Why isn't James in the dining room, Mr. Barrow?" Carson asked. His words were low and dangerous.

"I thought he was," Thomas replied, his own voice level. He wouldn't be troubled by Carson's temper; James' failure to comply with everyday life, however, was another matter. He shot and angry glare down the corridor. "He will be, Mr. Carson, I can promise you that."

"James!"

Jimmy raised his head from his trembling hands, and gazed at the door. The handle shook; it turned, this way and that, but thankfully, the lock held.

"James, open the door." The demand was muffled by the peeling wood, but there was no misplacing the voice. It was Thomas. Jimmy felt his heart skip a beat, but he didn't move. There was an angry sigh, followed by the startling bang of a fist coming to a forceful rest upon the door.

"You have exactly two minutes to get out here," the under butler hissed, "before Carson sends you packing! He's ready to bite someone's head off, he is! And I'd prefer it if it weren't mine!" After a final bang, Jimmy heard the man's retreating footsteps. All was silent once more.

"Where's Jimmy?"

Thomas glanced at Daisy. She was watching him with wide, weary eyes. He sighed.

"On his way," he assured the young cook, with a certainty he didn't possess. Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she muttered, "or else, Mr. Carson'll skin 'im alive, he will!"

Jimmy raced down the corridor, fixing his buttons as he went. His stomach still churned; his mouth remained sour, stained by the fruits of his nausea. But for the moment, his wellbeing must be pushed aside. For it was his position as first footman that hung in the balance.

Leaning down, Alfred held one gloved hand pressed behind his back. The other grasped the tray of kipper. He held it before him, and leant down. Mr. Higgs glanced up, and when he saw the cold fish, his beady eyes gleamed. The footman could almost imagine the man rubbing hands in glee. Were it not for his polished surroundings, Alfred believed he might have.

Without a word of thanks, Mr. Higgs relieved the tray of two of its occupants. Alfred was used to being ignored; however, this man twisted his stomach, and although the footman knew not the reason, every move the lug made set his teeth on edge.

Once he was certain Mr. Higgs had satisfied his craving for cold, dead fish, Alfred stepped away from the table. Lady Mary was next; the footman knew she would refuse the morsel, but it was his duty to be sure. In one, swift movement, he leant down, and offered the tray.

"Dear God!"

Carson's cry rang through the dining room. Alfred jumped, springing away from Lady Mary's startled stare. In his surprise, the tray of kipper clattered to the floor. As the stiff fish landed upon the floor, Lord Grantham rose from his chair. Alfred froze, awaiting his rebuke, or dismissal. But it was not the tall man at whom His Lordship glared. Lord Grantham's hard eyes stared past Alfred, and pinned themselves into Jimmy, who stood, trembling in the doorway, beside a livid Mr. Carson. By his feet, a sauce bowl rolled, its steaming contents splayed across the carpet.

"Carson!" Lord Grantham thundered. "What is the meaning of this? Have all my footmen been taken ill this evening?" Carson, at a loss, looked from Jimmy to Alfred, and back again. He cleared his throat, his heavy brows furrowed in barely contained rage.

"I am sorry, My Lord," the butler apologized through clenched teeth. "I don't know what came over James." He glared at the fair-headed footman, but his victim appeared oblivious. His blue eyes were wide, and stared at Jonathan Higgs, unflinching, unblinking.

Hope you all enjoyed it. Please review, my wonderful readers!