"Where's Mr. Farrimond?" Sybil asked her mother on the way home from church their first Sunday in London. "I saved him my scone from breakfast." She pulled a napkin full of dry, sticky crumbs from her tiny purse.

Lady Grantham didn't know what to say. She was touched by this kindness her daughter wanted to show to a man she had only met once, but Lady Grantham wasn't ready to talk to the girls about death. None of them were old enough to remember their grandfather's death and funeral. Sybil hadn't even been born when he died.

"We'll ask Mr. Carson when we get home." Cora deflected. She hoped that Sybil would forget about Paul, but she knew it was unlikely.

Sure enough, the second the door opened at Grantham House, Sybil blurted out, "Where's Mr. Farrimond? I have this for him."

"Will you see that he receives it, Carson?" Lord Grantham gave the butler a significant look.

"Of course, My Lord." Carson answered smoothly and reached out to receive the mess of butter, crumbs and jam. He did not even flinch as she placed it in his hand.

This seemed to cheer Sybil considerably. Mary and Edith looked fatigued by their sister's charity, both rolling their eyes as if to say, 'We've gone to church, isn't that enough?" and "Must one be so cheerful all the time?' respectively.

-00-

The Season progressed with obstinate sloth until May finally arrived. Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper at Grantham House, was the wrong side of eighty years and retired very early in the evenings, almost immediately after servant's dinner. This left Carson with a few more duties, but it also afforded him silence and privacy. In past Season's he had looked forward to his quiet evenings, but this year he felt restless. He sat most evenings in his great leather chair reading novels She had recommended or mentioned in Her letters. Carson disciplined himself to only write to Downton, to Her, once a week.

Carson was very surprised one Saturday evening when he looked up at the light sound of knocking at his office door. All three of the young Ladies Grantham stood there expectantly. He stood quickly and set his book aside.

"You should all be fast asleep by now." Carson informed them with his deep voice that was stern but could never scold them.

"Tomorrow is Sunday." Lady Mary announced as though her declaration made it so.

"So it is."

"We've not seen Mr. Farrimond since we arrived in London." Edith pointed out.

"I expect not."

"Where is he?" Sybil asked with her voice thick with genuine concern.

Carson took a deep breath. The two older girls looked at him, expecting him to lie to them like every other adult they had asked. Carson knew he was a terrible liar under even ideal circumstances. He did not even consider attempting a lie while facing these three earnest faces asking for the truth.

"He is dead, My Ladies. He died just before the family came to London."

"Is that why you left early, Carson?" Mary wondered.

"It is, My Lady. I was able to see him before he died."

"And is that why Papa did not travel with us?" Edith asked.

"It is. His Lordship attended the funeral with me."

"But where is he?" Sybil still wanted to know. Carson could not answer.

"He's in heaven." Mary told her coldly, as though even a child as young as Sybil should know that. "Thank you, Carson."

"I'm sorry, Carson." Edith offered her condolences, not because she really understood, but only because she knew she ought to.

He nodded in acknowledgement, but was too overwhelmed to speak.

Sybil was still confused. Heaven was a good place; they spoke of it in church. Even a king would find Heaven an improvement, she'd been told. So why was Carson so obviously sad?

"Is he happier there?" She asked. "He wasn't very happy here."

"Sybil, it's not our business to ask." Mary shushed her.

"It's alright, My Lady, I don't mind saying." Carson said. He knelt down so that he was eye level with the girls. "He is with his family now. So, yes, he is much happier."

"Heaven is where we go to be with our family?" Sybil wanted to know.

"Mr. Farrimond's family was there already. Heaven is where we are surrounded by those we love and who love us."

"But we have that now." The youngest Crawley insisted.

"Yes, but we cannot stay in this world forever." Carson tried to explain something that he himself rarely considered. "We have to make room for others to come and live here. When we've had our time here, we go to Heaven. There is room in Heaven for everyone. There is no hunger or need. In Heaven, there is nothing but peace and love."

"But people are sad when someone dies."

"They are sad for themselves, not for the people who have died. We miss them for a time, but we will see them again." Carson tried to think of something in the child's experience that could better explain what he meant. "Do you remember how much you missed your father when he was away?"

The small girl nodded, her dark curls bouncing.

"And do you remember how you felt when he came home?"

Sybil nodded again.

"That's what it's like to lose someone. We are sad when they are gone, but the joy when we see them again in Heaven is almost beyond words."

This seemed to satisfy the youngest Crawley. She turned to follow her sisters who were leaving, but then she stopped and looked back at the still kneeling butler. "Carson? When I get to Heaven, will you be there?"

"I shall be there to open the door for you, My Lady." Carson smiled reassuringly. "But there are many joys to be found in this world, My Lady. Let's not hurry to the next. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Sybil smiled back at him before skipping after her sisters.

TBC…

AN/ I don't know why I can't resist these bittersweet moments with little Sybil.

Next chapter: Death number 2.