Thanks to eyeon and hillevi and guests for their reviews of the last chapter.

In aristocratic circles November heralded the beginning of hunting season. Downton was noted for its pheasant and duck hunting but under Robert and Cora Crawley these hunting parties were rather small affairs which sometimes only consisted of five to ten men. While Downton held two or three fox hunts during the season, it was the first fox hunt that was held towards the end of November after the fields had been harvested that was t most glittering affair. There was not only the hunt itself but also a dinner and ball that made it a social must.

Mary silently fumed as she stood at the upstairs window watching the scene being played outside. The hard gravel path that wound its way from the entrance gates widen and stretched in front of the house into a large rectangle was covered with hounds and horses. The riders looked so distinguished in their red or black hunting coats with their black top hats sitting so jaunty on their heads. She watched as they greeted each other and partook of the silver stirrup cups of port or sherry and the fruit cake offered by footmen walking among the horses carrying silver trays.

Spotting her cousin Patrick among the riders made her irritation only grow. She knew she was a better rider than some of those attending, certainly better than Patrick, and it just didn't seem fair that her Papa deemed her too young to participate in this annual hunt while Patrick, just a year older well almost two if she was honest, was allowed.

She had been a keen rider since sitting on her first pony at the age of four. It wasn't just that girls and women of her breeding were expected to be competent riders, it was an integral part of the English aristocratic life. It was also an example of where she differed from her American mother who Mary doubted had ever been on a horse. Her mother may have been rich but she wasn't born into this life style and in Mary's eyes would never truly be an English aristocrat like herself.

But Mary's love of riding wasn't because it was part of the aristocratic lifestyle, but because she loved the freedom that horse riding brought her. She loved the feel of the wind whipping her face and hair as she galloped across the fields and the excitement of moving faster and covering more ground that she could ever achieve by walking or running. These days it was her one area of freedom for she was free to roam as far on the estate as she wanted. Of course one of the stable hands would follow discretely at a distance just in case she ran into trouble but Mary often made a game of trying to shake her unwanted minder.

In anticipation of this hunt she had been practicing her jumps choosing trails with fences or logs or creek beds to cross . Even the stable master considered her skilled beyond her years. Much to her displeasure Papa would not listen to any of this and forbade her to participate in the hunt focusing on her age rather than her riding skills. I'll consider it when you're sixteen but not before then was his reply to her considerable pleas.

Mary's annoyance only grew seeing Edith standing off to the sidelines trying to talk to Patrick. In Mary's eyes Edith was far too timid and meek to be a successful rider. Unlike Mary, Edith didn't enjoy riding and didn't seem particularly comfortable around horses. In fact, Mary didn't think Edith had been to the stables since she was learning to ride when she was about five. Those lessons had been quite amusing to Mary as she watched her skittish sister fail miserably to master the very basics of riding.

Her sour mood wouldn't brighten as this whole hunt extravaganza played out and she wasn't allowed to participate in any of it. Not the hunt. Not the luncheons. Not the dinners. Not the ball.

Probably the worst of it was that she'd have to eat all her meals in the nursery with her sisters. Although her mother had broken with tradition and allowed her daughters to eat breakfast and often luncheon in the dining room, only she, at twelve years old, was allowed to eat dinner there provided there were no guests. But with these guests visiting she would be relegated once more to the nursery as if she were still a child. As if eating with Edith wasn't bad enough she'd have to suffer through meals with Sybil's friend Imogen whose incessant chatter was only broken by her annoying giggling.

Mary shook her head as she silently chided herself. She shouldn't take out her frustration on her darling little sister. It was nice that Sybil had someone her own age to play with for a change for it hadn't escaped her notice that Sybil often seemed lonely. Maybe if Sybil had friends keeping her company more often she might not constantly be getting into trouble or pulling pranks on her and Edith.

Mary chuckled, for only being seven years old Sybil had a knack for playing pranks. She especially loved the one last week where Sybil made Edith think there was a ghost in the nursery. She, of course, hadn't fallen for it although she played along but poor Edith did. Not that it was so hard to fool Edith but she had to admit Edith took it quite well and even laughed at herself for being fooled.

The sound of the huntsman's horn brought Mary's thoughts back to the scene taking place outside her window. She glumly watched as the cavalcade of riders on horseback and the hounds darted off following the scent of their prey.

xxxxx

Edith sat on the edge of her mother's bed watching as the lady's maid put the finishing touches on Cora's elaborate hairdo. Fingering the fine dark blue silk dress that laid across the bed, Edith dreamed of when she'd get to wear such finery and attend balls.

Watching the image of her daughter through the mirror of her dressing table, Cora had a pang of melancholy as she realized how quickly her girls were growing up. "Someday I'll be watching you dressing up in such fine silks, ready to dance the night away with handsome young men."

Edith gave one last longing look at the dress before glancing at her mother. "If only I'd look half as beautiful as you Mama" she sighed.

Cora furrowed her brows as she turned to face her daughter. Edith was in so many ways the daughter she worried most about. Mary was every bit as formidable as her grandmother Violet and sweet little Sybil was already showing too much independence but Edith often seemed a bit lost.

"Oh Edith you'll be every bit as lovely" Cora offered.

"Really Mama … do you really think I'll be pretty?"

Cora's heart broke seeing how forlorn Edith looked but at the same time a bit exasperated. She wished Edith had a bit more of Mary's confidence and Sybil's gumption.

She stood up and walked over to Edith, pulling her in for a hug. "I'll be so worried some young man will sweep you off your feet way before I'm ready to let you go."

"But weren't you only eighteen when you met Papa?"

"I was. Your Papa was so dashing and handsome, I had never met anyone like him before."

Cora's fingers gently brushed across Edith's forehead and down one cheek. "You are pretty my dear and with your beautiful reddish hair you'll stand out from the crowd. Just wait and you'll see. But please Edith for now be happy being eleven. Childhood just goes so fast."

xxxxxx

The sounds of music drifted throughout the Abbey even up to the third floor nursery although up there the sounds were rather faint. Sybil and Imogen had quietly talked and giggled long after Sybil's nanny had put them to bed, the covers pulled up to their eyes hoping to muffle their sounds. Now that she was sure Nanny was asleep, her soft snores could be heard through the partially opened door that separated the nanny's sleeping room from the girls, Sybil threw back her covers and jumped out of bed as did Imogen.

She glanced over at Edith surprised that her older sister had fallen asleep so quickly. It hadn't been that long since Edith had come into the nursery so full of excitement blabbing on and on about how beautiful Mama looked and bragging how she had chosen the jewelry that so complimented Mama's blue silk gown. Edith had declared that surely their Mama would be the most beautiful woman at the ball causing a defiant Imogen to state that her mother was just as beautiful.

"Edith" Sybil whispered as she pulled on her sister's arm. "Don't you want to watch the dancing?"

The three girls, all dressed in long night gowns with their hair tied back in a plait hanging down their back, giggled with anticipation as the music became louder as they made their way down to the second floor balcony. Once there Sybil and Imogen had to stand on their tip toes to see through the railings to the floor below where couples glided around the grand salon in beat to the music of the five piece band that took up one corner of the room.

As Edith scrutinized the beautiful gowns and jeweled tiaras (several had tiaras as glittery as that of her mother's), the two younger girls were more eager to move with the beat of the music.

"May I have this dance?" Imogen bowed to Sybil. Laughing the two girls stomped around the corridor showing lots of enthusiasm but little of the elegance of the dancers on the floor below.