Christmas, 1923
The servants' ball this year was almost as dour as it had been during the war, even though it was a remarkable improvement on 1920 and 1921 after the deaths of Lady Sybil and Matthew Crawley, respectively. The family still had not recovered, would never recover their spirits for tradition after these. Lady Rose gave gumption to the ball last year, but she was spending what little time she could with her parents in London for their brief holiday leave from India.
Thomas had given his first dance to the Dowager Countess, as was his right as the 2nd highest ranking male servant. He had also managed to dance with Lady Grantham before she slipped out, and Lady Mary before she slipped out even earlier. Now that he was finished with his dances with Lady Edith and Isobel Crawley, Thomas supposed he should turn his attention to keeping morale high amongst the female staff. His dancing ability was almost as well known as his lack of interest in female romance.
Thomas would have liked to give his first staff dance to Mrs. Hughes, but she seemed pretty contented dancing with Mr. Carson. He locked eyes with Daisy and she grinned. "The bear, perhaps, Mr. Barrow?"
Thomas gave a sly smile back and held a gloved hand out to Daisy.
A tug on his coattails stopped them from joining the dance floor. Thomas whirled around to see who would dare do such a thing to the under-butler. His rage was put out before it began when he locked eyes with Miss Sybil.
"Bear! Barrow!" Miss Sybil exclaimed.
"Why of course Miss Branson, I would be honored," Thomas replied. He turned to Daisy. "I'm sorry Daisy, but the ladies of the house must have precedence."
"Of course, Mr. Barrow," Daisy graciously stepped aside and gave a slight curtsey towards the toddler, "Miss Branson."
Thomas gave his most lavish bow usually reserved for the Dowager Countess or visiting ladies of the aristocracy to Sybbie, who gave him a sloppy quick curtsey in return, but with a charming grin.
Thomas gently guided Sybbie into a position facing him but away from most of the dancers so they wouldn't crowd into her. He showed her how to make "claws" with her hands and to growl at him, stepping forward. Then they switched. Sybbie giggled in delight the entire time over several musical numbers while the rest of the party waltzed.
When Carson walked by, Sybbie turned towards him with her claws and exclaimed "Carson! Bear!" and growled. Carson looked down at Sybbie, then indignantly towards Thomas, who shrugged innocently. Like most of the household, Carson couldn't stay mad for long at the child who so took after her beloved mother they had lost.
"Regretfully, Miss Branson, I do not know the bear dance. However, if you would like to join me with the foxtrot, I would be elated."
Sybbie nodded solemnly.
"First, curtsey to Mr. Barrow to thank him for the dance," Carson instructed Miss Sybil.
Sybbie turned to Thomas and gave him another shaky curtsey and another big smile. He returned with another lavish bow.
As Carson instructed Sybbie and put her little feet on his to guide her on the steps of the foxtrot, Thomas felt a pang of sadness and jealousy. Each step she's taking is a step towards who she'll be, he thinks. Growing up here, would Sybbie be trained to be a fine lady like Mary? Mary was beautiful and proud- everything an Earl's daughter- and Earl's wife- and Earl's mother- should be. Sybbie was unlikely to be any of these. She was a chauffer's daughter. A nurse's daughter. The daughter of his friend. Sybbie should be like Sybil- a woman with a mind and heart of her own.
