'Ah, good, you're both here,' Edith said as she came barrelling into Mary's room, grinning like a fool and almost fizzing with excitement. 'Have you seen?'

At her dressing table, Mary rolled her eyes, taking out the earrings she'd been trying on, already irritated by her sister and her nonsensical question.

'Seen what?' Sybil asked looking up from the magazine she was leafing through.

'Not what, who,' Edith said, making a beeline for Mary's window and peering out of it, down at the front of the house.

'Has somebody come to visit?' Sybil glanced at Mary as she asked the question, wondering at Edith's strange behaviour.

'No, he's not a visitor,' Edith said, still craning her neck out of the window. 'It's much better than that.'

Mary pressed her lips together, trying not to snap at her sister. She knew Sybil didn't like it when she and Edith sniped at each other but, honestly, Edith was already wearing on her last nerve, and she'd only been in the room for a few seconds.

'Edith, neither Sybil nor I are blessed with the gift of mind-reading, so if you want us to actually respond to you, please be so kind as to tell us what on earth you are talking about,' she said through clenched teeth.

Edith turned away from the window to face her sisters. 'We've got a new chauffeur!'

Mary stared at her in disbelief. 'You're flapping about like this because we've got a new chauffeur? Honestly, Edith. I think we have a new maid starting on Monday. You'd better brace yourself for that excitement.'

'No, you don't understand. I only caught a glimpse of him but the new chauffeur... he's... he's…' Edith trailed off, searching for a suitable word.

'He's what?' Sybil asked curiously.

'He's... well, he's rather yummy,' Edith said, her eyes shining.

'Yummy?' Mary echoed, witheringly. 'Yummy? You make him sound like he's an iced dessert.'

'Well, I don't think I'd mind tasting him,' Edith muttered, turning back to the window to hide her flaming face.

'Edith! You can't say that!' Sybil exclaimed, scandalised. She hopped off the bed and walked to the window, peering over her sister's shoulder. 'I take it he's outside now, is he?'

'He's waiting for Papa,' Edith replied, rising up onto her toes to see if that would help her get a better look at her quarry.

Mary watched her sisters jostling for space at the window as they tried to ogle the new chauffeur and rolled her eyes again.

'Is this going to be like when Thomas arrived and you mooned over him for months on end?' she asked, even as curiosity overcame her and she got to her feet to join them.

Edith tossed a glare over her shoulder at her elder sister. 'I did not moon over Thomas.'

'Yes, you did. It was quite embarrassing.'

'I did not!' Edith squawked indignantly, going red in the face.

'You did rather,' Sybil said, gently. 'But Thomas is quite pleasant to look at, isn't he? I understand why you mooned over him.'

Mary squeezed between her sisters, peering out of the window, taking advantage of her superior height as Edith bristled. She found herself looking down on a green-clad figure waiting patiently by the open rear door of the car.

'I can't see anything more than the top of his head,' she complained. 'He could look like an orangutan for all we can see from here.'

At that moment, their father came striding out of the house and climbed into the back of the car. The new chauffeur shut the door behind him then moved forward to open the driver's door. As he did, he glanced up at Mary's window, catching the three of them peering down at him. He smiled up at them before disappearing into the car.

'Oh, my goodness,' Sybil breathed in awe as Mary caught a brief impression of pleasant features, even teeth and a dimpled chin.

'I told you,' said Edith, smugly. 'Yummy.'

'Well, he's not as decrepit as old Taylor, I'll give you that,' Mary allowed, grudgingly. 'I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say he's… well…'

'Yummy?' Edith supplied, grinning widely.

Mary glared at her. 'I'm not going to use that ridiculous word. Good-looking. We didn't see his face long enough to be able to tell if he's good-looking.'

'I thought he was,' Sybil said, a blush rising in her cheeks. 'He looked quite handsome to me.'

'We barely saw his face for more than a couple of seconds,' Mary said, firmly. 'No, I for one am reserving judgment until I get a better look at him.'

'We should ask him to drive us somewhere,' Edith said excitedly, her eyes shining. 'Then we can all get a better look at him.'

'Where could we go?' Sybil asked, quite taken with the idea.

'Anywhere we want,' Edith replied, going to ring the bell to summon Anna.

'What are you doing?' Mary frowned, not liking how Edith was taking over when they were in her room. 'Why are you ringing for Anna?'

'Because she'll be able to tell us more about the new chauffeur. She'll be able to tell us if he's yummy or not.'

Mary cringed, shaking her head irritably. 'Will you please stop using that awful word?'

'What word? Yummy?' Edith asked, smiling sweetly at her sister.

'Yes.'

'Why? Don't you like it? Does it bother you? It's just a word. Yummy. Yummy, yummy, yummy.'

'Edith!' Mary ground out, fighting the urge to slap her sister. 'Shut up.'

'Yummy, yummy, yummy! Yummy, yummy, yummy!' Edith chanted gleefully, skipping away from Mary.

Sybil stepped between them, casting a worried look at Mary as she glowered at Edith. 'You shouldn't say that about him, Edith. It's not very respectful. He's a person after all, even if he is, well…'

'Yummy?'

'Rather attractive,' Sybil finished. 'You can't treat him like he's an object. He has feelings.'

'Yes, he probably does, but I doubt it would hurt his feelings if he knew we think he is yummy. I'm sure he'd be quite flattered. It definitely wouldn't hurt my feelings if I knew a man thought I was yummy,' Edith said, blithely dismissing Sybil's concerns.

'Well, I doubt you're in any danger of that happening,' Mary said waspishly, giving her sister a critical once over. 'You'd need to get some seriously better clothes first and don't even get me started on your hair.'

Edith scowled at her. 'Why do you always have to be so horrible?'

'Because you make it so easy,' Mary responded, staying calm as Edith bristled like a wet cat again. 'It's like shooting fish in a barrel.'

'Mary, Edith, please,' Sybil sighed as Anna appeared in the doorway.

'You rang for me, milady?' the maid asked, looking at Mary.

'No, I did,' Edith replied, giving Mary one last glare before turning her attention to Anna. 'We wanted to ask you about the new chauffeur.'

'Mr Branson?' Anna said in surprise.

'Branson,' Edith repeated, dreamily. 'What a nice name.'

Mary rolled her eyes. 'Oh, for goodness' sake.'

'What can you tell us about him?' Edith pressed on.

'Er, well, he's… he's Irish. I suppose that's the first thing you notice about him. He has quite a pleasant accent,' Anna said, a bit nonplussed by this line of questioning.

'That wasn't the first thing I noticed about him,' Edith muttered to Sybil, waggling her eyebrows at her. Anna eyed her in surprise, trying to mask her shock at Edith's blatant appreciation of the new chauffeur.

Mary ignored her sister. 'Irish? Heavens, Granny will be worried he's going to blow us up in our beds.'

'Mary! Of course, he's not going to do that. Don't say something so awful,' Sybil protested.

'No, Mr Carson would never have hired him if he were involved in any of the Home Rule business,' Anna said, quite sure of that. 'Although, he does have strong opinions about that. Mr Branson, I mean.'

'Well, whether he's a Fenian or not, Irish is quite exotic for Downton,' Mary said, settling herself at her dressing table.

'I wonder how he came to be here,' Edith mused.

'Presumably because he applied for and got the job as the chauffeur,' Mary said, acerbically.

Edith glared at her again before turning back to Anna. 'How old is he?'

'I don't know. Maybe in his late twenties or so.'

'And is he as good-looking as he seems to be?'

Anna looked taken aback by that question. 'Um, well, he's… he's… he's got a very nice face, I suppose. I'm sure many people would think he's good-looking.'

'A good-looking, young Irishman. Driving us around. How perfectly wonderful,' Edith breathed, sinking down onto Mary's bed.

Mary rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. 'Really, Edith. I don't know why you're so bothered about this. It's not like he could ever be a suitor. He's the chauffeur, for heaven's sake.'

'I know that, but it's still nice to have somebody handsome to drive us around. Even you can't deny that. Who would you rather look at while you're in the car? Old man Taylor or a well-favoured young man with a nice physique and a beautiful face?'

Mary stared at Edith, quite astonished by her little speech. 'Don't you think you might be over-egging the pudding somewhat? He might not be all that beautiful. We didn't see his face for long enough to ascertain that for sure.'

'He did look like he could be beautiful, Mary,' Sybil offered shyly, blushing again as Mary turned her head to look at her. 'I mean from that brief glimpse, I certainly thought he looked very… very nice.'

Edith turned once more to their maid. 'Anna, you've had a proper look at him. Would you say he's beautiful?'

'Er, I… well, I haven't really thought about it,' Anna mumbled, flustered by the question.

'Well, think about it now,' Edith persisted, looking expectantly at their maid.

'Leave Anna alone, Edith. You're being quite improper. Unlike you, Anna has to work alongside Branson and quite rightly may find it highly inappropriate for you to interrogate her about him like this,' Mary chastised her sister.

Edith pouted, put out by Mary's scolding. 'I was only asking.'

'I think, milady, it's probably better if you make your own mind up about whether Mr Branson is, er, beautiful or not,' Anna said diplomatically, looking straight at Edith. 'Even if I thought he was, you might not agree or vice versa. It wouldn't do for us all to like the same thing, would it?'

'Exactly. Well said, Anna,' Mary agreed. 'Now, could we drop the subject of the new chauffeur and how attractive he may or may not be? I've grown rather weary of this whole business.'

Edith pulled a face. 'Well, I shall make up my own mind,' she said firmly. 'Don't worry about that.'

Edith sidled up to Sybil and perched beside her on the sofa in the drawing room, glancing furtively around before divulging the results of her investigations.

'He has blue eyes. The bluest blue eyes you've ever seen.'

'Who has?' asked a startled Sybil as Mary sat down on the other side of her.

'Who has what?' Mary enquired, sipping her drink.

Edith rolled her eyes impatiently. 'Branson,' she hissed. 'The chauffeur. He has the bluest of blue eyes. So blue you could swim in them. Blue like the Aegean Sea.'

'Like you'd know anything about the colour of the Aegean Sea,' Mary snorted dismissively. 'The only sea you've seen is the North Sea and that's generally rather murky.'

Edith glared at her then ignored her in favour of talking to Sybil instead. 'Well, his eyes match the descriptions I've read of the Aegean Sea. They are quite intensely blue. I almost felt like I could dive into them and drown in their depths.'

Mary snorted again. 'You read far too many romance novels, Edith.'

'How do you know what colour his eyes are, Edith? Have you been pestering poor Anna again?' Sybil asked curiously, disregarding Mary.

'No, I've met him, and I can confirm he is quite as handsome as we thought,' Edith sighed happily. 'I really think he could be a film star if he wanted to be.'

'You've met him? When?' Sybil asked, clutching Edith's arm in excitement.

'I loitered around waiting for Papa to come home and then went out to greet him. I saw Branson then,' Edith said, puffing herself up in pride at being the first of them to actually meet the new chauffeur.

'You didn't!'

'I did.'

'What did you say to him?' Sybil asked breathlessly.

Edith faltered a little. 'Well, I didn't actually speak to him. But I saw his face and I heard his voice. Anna's right, he's got the most divine accent. And, oh, Sybil, he is so very handsome.'

'So, you didn't actually meet him, then,' Mary pointed out gleefully. 'You simply looked at him from a shorter distance than before.'

'Oh, do shut up, Mary. As usual, you are totally missing the point,' Edith snapped in annoyance.

'And what would that point be?'

'That I was completely right about Branson being yummy. He is. Perfectly yummy.'

'Oh, not that dratted word again!' Mary huffed, her irritation spiking.

'His face is so… so… symmetrical.'

'Symmetrical?' Mary scoffed. 'Is that the best you can say about him? I would say that is more like damning him with faint praise than lauding his beauty.'

Edith glared at her. 'Well, if you'd stop interrupting and let me finish.'

'Go ahead. Be my guest. Tell us more about Branson's symmetrical face,' Mary said patronisingly, wafting her hand in a 'please continue' gesture.

'He has a little dimple, no, a cleft, no, it's a dimple, no, maybe it is a cleft in his chin,' Edith continued, ignoring Mary's exaggerated eye roll as she dithered over the correct description of Branson's chin. 'It's really quite manly. It gives him an admirably strong jawline.'

'What else?' Sybil breathed, enthralled by Edith's description of the Adonis in the garage.

'A neat little nose, perfectly proportioned, and his lips, oh his lips…' Edith trailed off, looking dreamily into the distance.

Sybil shook her sister's arm, desperate to know. 'What about his lips?'

Edith looked back at Sybil, a blissful smile on her face. 'His lips look so soft and pillowy –'

'Pillowy? Good Lord! I've heard it all now!' Mary sniggered, Edith's death stare rolling harmlessly off her.

'- like he could kiss you for hours and hours and hours and it would be simply heavenly,' Edith finished, rising above Mary's provocation to finish her flight of fancy with a happy sigh.

'Goodness,' Sybil swallowed, looking starry-eyed. 'What a thought. I almost want to run down to the garage and see him for myself.'

'You absolutely will not, Sybil!' Mary scolded, aghast at the thought. 'That would be quite improper.'

'I know that, and I did say almost,' Sybil said, showing a small spark of irritation. 'I'm not a fool, Mary.'

'Well, at least one of you isn't,' Mary remarked, raising an eyebrow at an increasingly annoyed Edith. 'Honestly, all this fuss over the chauffeur.'

'I bet you'll think he's handsome too when you finally see him properly,' Edith retorted hotly. 'Even a stuck-up killjoy like you won't be able to look at him and not think he's completely yummy.'

'What's completely yummy?' their father asked, appearing behind Edith. Her eyes widened as she stared at her sisters in silent panic.

'Mrs Patmore's dinners,' Sybil said quickly, smiling winningly at her papa as she salvaged the situation. 'We were just wondering what yumminess she has in store for us tonight.'

'Oh, well, yes, I completely agree about Mrs Patmore's cooking. It is quite delicious. And I believe it might be pheasant tonight.'

'How delightful,' Sybil replied as Edith mouthed a heartfelt thank you and Mary snickered into her glass.

Edith and Sybil almost tripped each other up in the battle to get into Mary's room. Mary herself paused in taking off her hat to look at the commotion in her doorway in astonishment.

'What on earth are you doing?' she asked when her sisters finally burst through the door, elbowing each other out of the way.

'Well?' demanded Edith at the same time as Sybil said, 'We want to know what you think.'

'What I think about what?' Mary asked, looking back and forth between them in confusion.

'About the changes to the London train timetable,' Edith deadpanned, rolling her eyes. 'About Branson, of course, you ninny.'

'Oh, not this again,' Mary sighed in annoyance, turning away from them to set her hat on her dressing table.

'Is he very handsome, Mary?' Sybil asked eagerly. 'Or is Edith exaggerating as usual?'

Edith turned her head to give Sybil an indignant look. 'I do not exaggerate!'

'Yes, you do. You told me Thomas was nearly seven feet tall when you first saw him and he's not anywhere near that.'

'But he is very tall and, in my defence, I was sitting down when I first saw him,' Edith argued. 'It's not my fault that my perspective made him appear taller than he was.'

'Edith, he'd have probably been the tallest man in the world if he were seven feet tall and he's really only about the same height as Papa,' Sybil retorted.

'Well, all that's by the by now. We're talking about Branson now, not Thomas,' Edith said dismissively, turning to Mary. 'So, come on, don't leave us on tenterhooks. What was he like?'

'He was like a chauffeur. He drove me from A to B and back again,' Mary said, giving her answer all the consideration she thought it warranted.

Edith narrowed her eyes at her sister. 'Don't be so mean, Mary. You're the only one that's been in the car with him – and you were alone with him too.'

'Well, I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that. There was certainly nothing improper about it. We weren't on a social engagement together. He sat in the driving seat and did his job. I sat in the back and minded my own business as is fit and proper.'

'You didn't speak to him then?' Sybil asked.

'I did, but only to give him instructions and to thank him for handing me in and out of the car. We didn't converse if that's what you're asking,' Mary said, rather snootily.

'But you heard his voice. What's it like? Oh, do tell us,' Sybil begged, her eyes shining.

'It's… well, it's a perfectly pleasant voice, I suppose. He has a strong accent, but it's rather a soft one. A lilt, I think I'd describe it as,' Mary said, casting her mind back to the few words she'd exchanged with Branson. 'It's not at all harsh on the ear.'

'Oh, how lovely. I can't wait to hear it,' Sybil sighed.

'And what about his face?' Edith demanded.

'What about his face?'

Edith blew out an irritated breath. 'You know exactly what I'm asking. How would you describe it? Is he yummy?'

Mary narrowed her eyes at Edith's deliberate use of the word that was fast becoming her pet hate. 'A person cannot be yummy, Edith. Not unless you're a cannibal.'

'Oh, please, Mary. Please tell us if he's handsome,' Sybil interjected, giving her eldest sister her most beseeching look.

Mary looked at her and sighed, unable as ever to resist a plea from the sister she loved the most. 'He's…'

Her sisters gazed at her expectantly as she paused, both looking as if they were holding their breath.

'…he's quite attractive, yes.'

'I knew it!' Edith crowed 'Didn't I tell you he was?'

'He's not beautiful like you said, Edith. He's hardly a Greek god but he is quite passable. It's a much better view than it was when old Taylor was driving, I will say that. And he's a better driver than Taylor too, although he does drive rather faster than Taylor did.'

'Passable?' Edith said, scathingly. 'Now who's damning him with faint praise?'

'Well, what do you want me to say? That the chauffeur is the epitome of masculine beauty?'

'Yes, if that's what he is,' Edith said, nodding emphatically.

'Well, he's not. He's good-looking, I will admit that, but he's not the best-looking man I've ever seen,' Mary said firmly, trying not to think of the unfortunate Mr Pamuk.

'Right, and is that just because he's the chauffeur?'

Mary frowned at her sister. 'What do you mean by that?'

'I mean if he were Lord Branson of Dublin or something of that ilk, would you be prepared to consider him on the basis of his looks?' Edith challenged.

'Consider him for what?' Mary hedged, fervently wishing she wasn't being forced to have this conversation.

'As a suitor, of course,' Edith said, not letting it go.

Sybil looked at Mary with interest. 'Yes, that's a fair question. Would you, Mary?'

'I… I don't have to answer that because he's not a potential suitor, he's the chauffeur,' Mary said, haughtily.

'But if he weren't, would you think him handsome enough to entertain an approach from him?' Sybil asked, anxious to know the answer.

'Yes, tell us. Would you let him sweep you into his arms and crush his beautiful, soft lips to yours?' Edith asked, quite caught up with the idea of being embraced and kissed by Branson.

Mary sighed, feeling singularly irritated. 'Will you leave me in peace, the two of you, if I give you an honest answer?' she asked, fixing her sisters with a steely glare.

Edith and Sybil exchanged a look. 'Yes,' they chorused.

'Oh, for heaven's sake. Yes, all right then, I would,' Mary said, ungraciously.

'Ha! Because you think he's yummy!' Edith grinned triumphantly.

'I do not think he's yu… that word!' Mary bit out, wishing it wouldn't be frowned upon to permanently gag Edith.

'Yes, you do!'

'I think he's pleasing to the eye, but that is as far as I will go,' Mary said, crossing her arms and glaring belligerently at her sister. 'Now get out and leave me alone.'

'Thank you for being honest with us, Mary,' Sybil said in a conciliatory tone, grabbing Edith by the elbow and towing her towards the door. 'We will see you at tea time.'

'Didn't I tell you he was handsome, Sybil?' Mary heard Edith saying as Sybil tugged her into the corridor. 'And he must be if Mary's prepared to admit a servant is attractive.'

'I know,' came Sybil's voice in reply. 'If Mary thinks he's attractive, he must be simply gorgeous. I really can't wait to see him now.'

Mary rolled her eyes in exasperation and went to shut her bedroom door, trying not to think about just how bright blue the chauffeur's eyes had been when he handed her into the car.

'I got Branson to take me to the Dower House to see Granny this afternoon,' Edith whispered excitedly, sitting down next to her sisters in the library, keeping a careful eye on her father at his writing desk.

'You didn't! Why didn't you ask me to come too?' Sybil said, rather put out that she'd missed her chance to see the much-talked-about new chauffeur.

'You were out walking,' Edith said, defensively.

'Oh, so it had nothing to do with Sybil being a million times prettier than you and you not wanting Branson to be distracted by her then?' Mary said unkindly, raising a knowing eyebrow.

Edith shot her a venomous glare. 'You are such a nasty, spiteful cat, Mary. Perhaps I should ask Carson to bring you a saucer of milk instead of a cup of tea.'

Mary smirked at her sister, completely unrepentant.

'And, tell me, what was he like?' Sybil asked, taking Edith's hand and bringing her attention back to their conversation.

'Divine. Absolutely divine,' Edith sighed, her eyes glazing over. 'Like an angel sent to walk amongst us.'

'Oh, for God's sake,' Mary groaned in disgust. 'You simply are the absolute limit.'

'And did you speak to him?' Sybil asked, trying to imagine the vision Edith described.

'Well, no, not beyond asking him to take me to Granny's.'

'Why not?'

'Well, because I… I…' Edith petered out.

'Because you what? Did the blinding light from his angelic halo stun you into silence?' Mary asked in derision. 'Or were you perhaps transfixed by his Aegean blue eyes? Or was it his pillowy lips that rendered you speechless?'

'Because I couldn't think of anything to say to him,' Edith said turning to Sybil and loftily ignoring Mary.

'I feel quite sorry for him,' Sybil said, getting one of those looks on her face that she got when she was about to take up a cause.

'Why on earth do you feel sorry for him?' Mary asked, getting an uneasy feeling about this.

'Well, here we are talking about him non-stop, but none of us have actually talked to him, not beyond giving him orders.'

'He's the chauffeur, Sybil. We're only supposed to give him orders, not discuss matters with him or ask his opinion on anything,' Mary said, incredulously. 'We're not supposed to be friends with him or take him into our confidence.'

'You talk to Anna. And Carson,' Sybil pointed out.

'That's entirely different! Anna is my maid and Carson, well, Carson has known me all my life.'

'Well, I'm going to speak to him. Branson. When he drives me somewhere, I'm going to speak to him like he's a person. Because he is,' Sybil announced, a determined glint in her eye.

Mary stared at her soft-hearted sister in concern. 'He won't expect you to speak to him. He knows what's what. He's the chauffeur, you're the daughter of his employer.'

'I don't care about all that, you know I don't,' Sybil replied, her mind made up. 'I will definitely talk to Branson. It's a good thing to talk to people from different backgrounds.'

'Well, then if you want my advice, you should think up some topics of conversation before you go anywhere with him. Perhaps write them down and put the card in your handbag,' Edith said, nodding her head sagely. 'Because even though Mary was joking, his eyes really will rob you of the power of speech and thought if you look into them for too long.'

Sybil looked at Edith and burst out laughing while Mary sat there wishing her parents had never been careless enough to conceive Edith.

'Well? How did you get on with Branson?' Edith demanded of Sybil the moment she came into the library.

'Very well,' Sybil said, perching on the sofa next to Mary.

'And what did you think of him? He is handsome, isn't he?' Edith persisted.

Sybil nodded. 'Yes, I think he's… well, I think he's rather gorgeous.'

Mary glanced sideways at her sister. 'Gorgeous?'

'Yes. But more than that, he is very interesting too.'

'Interesting? What do you mean 'interesting'?' Edith asked, curiously.

'Just that. He has some very interesting ideas. He seems to be very knowledgeable about politics and current affairs.'

'You spoke to him?' Edith asked, her eyes going wide like saucers.

'Yes. I said I was going to, and I did,' Sybil said calmly, unperturbed by the surprised looks on her sisters' faces.

'Did you write down topics for conversation like I suggested?'

'No. I didn't need to. He started talking to me about votes for women, so we talked about that at first and then it became very easy to chat to him.'

'He started the conversation?' Mary asked, both surprised and uneasy about that revelation.

'Yes. He gave me some pamphlets about women's suffrage that he'd brought for me. It was very thoughtful of him.' Sybil said with a soft smile.

Mary and Edith exchanged a look, united for once in being disconcerted by this turn of events.

'I think I'm going to enjoy being driven about by Branson,' Sybil declared. 'And not simply because he is so handsome. I think he's going to be most informative and educational to talk to.'

Mary and Edith exchanged another look.

'Sybil, darling, you know you can't be friends with the chauffeur, don't you?' Mary asked carefully.

'Of course, I can. I can be friends with whomever I like,' Sybil responded, an obstinate set to her jaw.

'Not if Papa finds out,' Edith said with feeling. 'Branson might be out on his ear then and I bet we won't get another handsome chauffeur if that happens. Papa will make sure his replacement is either older than Methuselah or uglier than Quasimodo. Or both.'

'Oh, Edith, don't be silly. It's not like I'm going to run off with him. I'm simply going to talk to him. Papa won't mind. He expects us to be civil with the servants. That's all this will be,' Sybil said, serenely. 'Believe me, you're worrying about nothing. Branson and I will simply be friends. Now, I think I might go and read those pamphlets he gave me before we have tea. Excuse me.'

With that, she rose to her feet and left Mary and Edith sitting on the sofa, exchanging worried looks.

'This is all your fault,' Mary said, accusingly.

'My fault? How is it my fault?' Edith responded, indignantly.

'If you hadn't banged on about how good-looking Branson is, she never would have decided to talk to him.'

'You can't blame me for his good looks!' Edith protested. 'That's hardly fair!'

'No, but I can blame you for mooning over him and encouraging Sybil to do the same!'

'You think he's yummy too, so you can't lay it all at my door,' Edith said, crossly.

Mary glared at her, completely unimpressed by that argument. 'If Sybil runs off with the chauffeur, I am holding you entirely responsible. You and your ridiculous declarations of how yummy he is.'

'Don't be silly. Sybil won't run off with the chauffeur. I will eat my yummiest hat if that happens,' Edith said, dismissing that notion out of hand. 'She might be soft-hearted, but she's not an idiot. She knows what's what.'

'Hmm, you'd better hope so,' Mary said, threateningly. 'Because I will definitely make you eat your wretched hat if she does, and I can promise you now that you will not find it as yummy as Branson.'

'Ha! See, you do think he's yummy! I knew it!' Edith crowed, delighted to be proved right.

'Oh, shut up!' Mary blustered, stalking off in disgust.

Edith watched her go, enjoying the glow of victory then settled in to daydream once more about quite how yummy their new chauffeur was.