1899

"The estate is beyond beautiful, Lord Grantham," the Duke of Wellsborough nodded at the Earl of Grantham. Robert grinned and raised his champagne glass; he never got tired of compliments, particularly ones aimed towards Downton, his life's work. He tried not to pay much attention to his sweltering legs in his suit. The only reason he'd agreed to the summer garden party was to please Cora, but she could not have picked a worse day: beads of sweat were forming on even the women's foreheads.

"How old are the girls now, Lord Grantham?" another noble asked over the soothing sounds of the violin in the background.

Lord Grantham looked around for his daughters, the only things he took more pride in than Downton itself. "Ah, I can't seem to find where they are. Chasing after Sybil, I presume. She turned four last week. Edith is seven, and Mary is eight."

"Eight years old already? Goodness me," the nobleman's wife sighed. In the midst of searching for his daughters, Lord Grantham spotted Cora, sitting under the tent and staring off into the field with a smile on her delicate face. To what she was smiling at he had no idea, as the large fir trees obscured his vision.

"Excuse me for a moment," he pardoned. He walked briskly over to his wife.

"What ever are you so happy about on this ghastly summer afternoon?" Lord Grantham chuckled. Cora laughed and pointed her chin towards three small figures, all in dresses, walking through the vast field.

"I just love to watch them," she marveled, absentmindedly toying with the bottom of her necklace.

Lord Grantham squinted. "Do that too long and you'll hurt your eyesight. It's brighter than heaven out here."

Cora remained smiling but sighed. "Oh, Robert, it's a mother thing, I suppose. There's no greater joy than seeing your children getting along with each other. Although, I must say, it seems Mary and Sybil are getting along with each other more than they are with Edith."

Lord Grantham watched his daughters along with his wife and instantly understood what she meant.

"Look at what I found," Mary boasted, triumphantly holding up a small, round flower.

"What is that?" Sybil inquired, looking up in wonder at the flower. It was hard to call it a flower, however, because it was unlike any flower Sybil had ever seen.

Edith snatched it from her older sister. "It's a dandelion, that's what. And I'm the one who found it."

"A lion? That's silly, Edith, lions are very much bigger."

Edith rolled her eyes. Mary snatched it back and turned to Sybil, smiling. "If you blow on it very hard, all of these little bristles will fly off. You're supposed to make a wish before you blow, and afterwards it will come true."

Sybil's eyes were wide. "I wanna."

Mary began to hand it to her youngest sister, but Edith took the dandelion back before she could. "I pointed it out to you, Mary, I get to blow it."

Mary yanked Edith aside. "No. Sybil is the youngest, so let her do it. Be mature, Edith."

Edith looked at the dandelion lovingly. "I haven't blown one in so long, Mary, please?"

"No."

But it was too late; there were already small, fuzzy pieces floating around in the small summer breeze. Mary opened her mouth wide, astonished. Edith looked frightened at first, but then crossed her arms invincibly.

"You aren't the boss of me."

Mary's face turned red. "I hope your wish was that I would not kill you."

Edith scoffed. "It's only a dandelion, Mary."

Just then, Sybil began to cry. She did not wail or scream; her mother had warned her time and time again that that kind of crying was for babies. Instead, she sniffed as tears began to roll down her cheeks, and the occasional sob was let out. "I wanted to do it."

"See what you've done?" Mary sighed. She began searching frantically, whipping her head back and forth, scanning the large field. "Edith, help me."

"I don't have to if I don't want to."

Finally, after a few minutes, she finally found another dandelion. Its stem was wilted and it was smaller than most, but Mary was willing to take anything. Anything to make her sister stop crying.

She ran over to Sybil, who was sitting in the grassy field, sniffing. Tears were dripping off of her chin. Mary knelt down and handed the dandelion to her sister. She remembered what her Mama had told her a few years before: she needed to help take care of Sybil. Mary figured that part of it meant making her happy, not letting her cry.

"Here you go, darling," Mary said, patting Sybil on the head. Her crying ceased, and Mary used her dress sleeve to wipe off any extra tears from her cheeks. Sybil took a deep breath and blew. She watched in awe as the dandelion fuzz spread through the air, dancing about in the breeze against the cloudless blue sky's canvas.

a/n: thanks for reading, drop a review if you like :-) sorry this chapter was so short ily all