A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the follows, the reviews, and everything, not only here but since Lux Facta Est, I can't express enough how thankful I am.

As promised in the last chapter, this two-parter will focus on the youngest Branson family member (but the rest of the Bransons will feature here largely - and more of the Crawley lot, fear not). This story is actually partly based on a children's novel but I'll expand on that later. Thanks again so much for following, it really means a lot! Don't forget to review, s'il vous plait!

Disclaimer: If DA was mine, Sybil and Matthew would obviously still walk the Downton earth.

chasse, part un

1936

"Of course, you two will be joining us for the hunt?," Aunt Mary inquired.

"You know I don't hunt, Mary," Da replied, exasperation in his tone, "besides, I can't say I agree with such an extravagance in times like these."

"It is rather inappropriate," Mamma added, "the aristocracy going for a shoot while the rest of the country is in an economic depression."

"I take it you both still read those socialist newspapers, then?" Gran Violet scoffed from the chaise longue.

Her voice had a treble to it that had not been there before and her posture denoted that no longer was she "strong as an ox," but her tongue was something the years could only succeed in sharpening.

"They do have a point, you know," Aunt Isobel said, coming to Mamma and Da's aid.

"Perhaps," Aunt Mary sighed, "but Papa is persistent. He won't be dissuaded from holding a hunt."

"It's his way of taking his mind off from all this talk of another war," Uncle Matthew said, the vexation in his tone implying that he too would love for something to take his mind off the possibility of more bloodshed so soon after what he was beginning to realize had been a useless war.

"Regardless," Mamma interjected, "Tom and I cannot join you for the hunt, we have already made plans that day."

"What plans?"

"If you must know," Da grinned, "We are to spend the day in Ripon on a date."

"But what is a date?," Gran Violet asked, "No doubt some horrid, new fangled trend people in London are raving about?"

"No, Gran Violet!," little Saoirse Branson enthused from her place beside her mother, "A boy would ask a girl to go with him to the pictures, only the two of them and they would hold hands and –"

"And they would kiss! It's terribly romantic!," Saoirse's twin, Aoife finished from her place beside her father, annoyed that her sister, younger by ten whole minutes, had overtaken her in sharing her knowledge of dating. "Persis James from school told me that her brother wanted to ask Sybbie on a date but I told her that Sybbie won't do that because she thinks Arthur James is dull as paint and pomp – pompous," she finished, helping herself to a "big person" word to assert her maturity.

Silence.

Profound, still silence.

The noise of a pin dropping would have been most welcome.

Then –

"Aoife!" Three earth-rattling voices called at once – Sybbie, red-faced and torn between amusement at her innocent sisters' apparent worldliness and frustration for her choosing that very moment to reveal how that worldliness included herself ("Now Da's going to be in a fit, just you wait and see!), Gran Violet whose eyes popped and would soon begin to rattle on and on about the death of propriety and the things babes learn from the uncouth London air ("From the mouth of babes! Whatver shall come upon us next?!"), and Da, whose face blanched, no turned blue; here were his babies talking about kissing in the darkened rooms of picture houses ("Why would children even talk about such things?!" he would complain to his wife later that night), telling the whole family that his very first little girl had been invited to them.

Da tried to caught Mamma's eye to find some semblance of sympathy, only to be greeted by the horrid sight of her guiltily looking at her shoes. She knew!

"Sybil!"

"Darling, Sybbie asked me not to tell you. She said no, so we decided there was no point in worrying you over it."

"She is only sixteen!"

"And she knows her own mind well enough to say no. Really, Tom, you could get too protective at times! See, this is why she did not want you to know," Mamma's tone was more affectionate and amused than exasperated. His protectiveness of his womenfolk was something Mamma very much loved in Da, as trying as it was at times.

"May I join the hunt, Mamma?," nine-year old Margaret Crawley asked, putting an end to that conversation, at least for the moment.

"I'm afraid not, darling. George will be bringing a chum or two from Eton and a number of your grandfather's friends will be accompanied by their grandsons. It's going to be much too rowdy a company for a young girl," Uncle Matthew replied, equally wishing to keep his own little girl away from male eyes outside the family, at least until her coming out.

"Can this date not be rescheduled? Rose won't be back from Argentina until the day after and Edith and Aunt Rosamund continue to insist that the presence of so many children at Downton will be too taxing for them," Aunt Mary said, rolling her eyes at what she perceived as her younger sister's exaggerations.

"No, Mary," Mamma was exasperated, "We've had this date planned for weeks and we won't cancel it because Papa won't be dissuaded from his hunt."

"Will the girls be joining you, then?," Aunt Mary asked, her voice resigned.

"No. Mamma insists on bringing the twins to the fair and Sybbie has been eager to see George."

"Well that's a relief. We women are undersupplied enough as it is. Sybbie would be a great help at the hunt, I'm sure."

"In the company of those rowdy boys?!," Da started, "Maybe we should reschedule to after the hunt?"

"Tom, we are not rescheduling a date we've had planned for weeks because you are worried over some schoolboy being near our daughter," Mamma's voice was exasperated and annoyed now, "Sybbie is not a baby. She knows how to hold herself with boys and she knows how to say no."

"Besides," Uncle Matthew added, well understanding the fears of his brother-in-law and wanting to be of help, "George and I will be there to keep guard."

"If Sybbie can go, does that mean I can go too, Da?," Aoife implored with wide blue eyes so similar to her mother's.

"Me too, Da! Can I go too?," Saoirse added, not wanting to be left out of anything her twin sister was allowed to do.

Resigning himself to his fate, Da pressed a kiss to Aoife's straight, ebony locks and reached for Saoirse from across Mamma to do the same. "Promise me you two will never grow up!," he implored, cuddling his twin daughters to his chest.

Five-year old Saoirse Branson had no intention of growing up any time soon, but the need for adventures had to be satisfied and if that meant being every bit as grown-up as her adored eldest sister, then so be it.

The sounds of Grandpapa and the older members of the hunting party setting off at the break of dawn have stirred Saoirse from her sleep. Gazing out of her window, the excitement of the sight of the horses and her grandfather ready for action and adventure drove her out of her bed and out into the chill of the dawn air beyond the front door. The soft fabric of her nightgown blew against her small frame as her small, bare feet padded on the cold, stone floor. In her arms was clutched the small, plush mouse that was once Sybbie's in early childhood.

"Grandpapa! Wait for me! I want to go!"

"Sissy?!," Grandpapa answered, calling her by his special nickname for her, the only member in the family still unable to correctly pronounce her Christian name. Shock colored his voice at the sight of his small granddaughter. In the soft light of the dawn, she looked very much the part of a wee Celtic sprite. Thank heavens she was too young for the state of her wear to be considered inappropriate! Saoirse – no one else in the world was more appropriately named than his youngest granddaughter! What a free spirit she already was!

"Sissy," Grandpapa resumed when he had regained his senses, "What are you doing awake so early? Where is Miss Andrews? Are your parents awake?"

"No –,"

"Why, hello there young lady!," Lord Merton interrupted, offering Saoirse a wide smile. Saorsie did not know anything of the business between her father and Lord Merton's son, Larry from years ago and only knew from what George said, that Lord Merton was before keen on Aunt Isobel (Imagine that!). But the elderly Lord Merton had a kind smile and at that moment, Saoirse Branson decided that he was a nice man.

"You must be Lady Sybil's little girl, yes?," Lord Merton continued, knowing that his goddaughter's little girl would be older than the child in front of him and Lady Sybil's eldest nearing the age of her debut, "Off to join the hunt, are we? Well, my dear your Aunt Mary was quite the accomplished horsewoman even when she was a little girl!"

Saoirse's blue eyes widened in delight and she turned to her grandfather.

"Can I come then, Grandpapa? Please let me come, please!"

Grandpapa breathed in exasperation, turning his eyes away from the azure that were not only those of his youngest daughter's but also those of his wife's, the "No" he knew he had to say not quite coming to his lips.

"Sissy –,"

"Please, Grandpapa! I'll be a good girl, I promise. Please!"

"I'm afraid it would be a rather boring time, however, with us old codgers," Lord Merton laughed, now realizing his mistake in encouraging the child, "I expect you would have a much grander time playing in the sun with your sister and cousin."

"I don't want to play with Aoife! She stole Niamh from me! Sybbie told me she was mine but Aoife took her and won't give her back, I hate Aoife!," Saoirse huffed.

"Her doll," Grandpapa sighed by way of explanation to Lord Merton.

While individually his granddaughters have each taken after his daughter and son-in-law to varying extents, collectively they seemed to form a sort of parody of his own children's childhood with his youngest daughter's miniature as the firstborn and the much-younger twins acting more and more as their Aunts Mary and Edith have many years ago. Much as he loved his granddaughters, he found himself admitting that his youngest daughter's stubbornness and his son-in-law's persistence compounded by his older daughters' perpetual tendency to find something to argue about, nurtured from the earliest childhood, were a volatile combination. There were times, like today, that he found himself lucky for not living through the twins' arguments on a daily basis. Once was enough for any lifetime.

"Saoirse?"

The child's head lifted at the sound of her Mamma's voice, descending the stairs of the great hall, Da at her side.

"Are you alright, darling?," Mamma asked, worry in her tone.

"I'm going hunting with Grandpapa!," was the cheerful response.

Grandpapa's response was an exasperated sigh that had went beyond his granddaughter's persistence. Impropriety may be forgiven in his granddaughter of five, but not in his adult daughter who wore but a robe over her nightgown and his adult son-in-law still in pajamas. His irritation was only augmented by the sight of their bare feet.

"We went to the nursery to check on the twins," Da began, "but Saoirse was missing from her bed and we saw that the –,"

Da's explanation was cut off by the soft tones of Saoirse's eldest sister's "Mamma? Da?" as Grandpapa's irritation mounted over the approaching figure of his eldest granddaughter, the very image of her mother save for her blonde locks, clad as her mother was in a robe and nightgown, feet as bare as the rest of the family's, leading by the hand a sleepy, bare-footed, wee Celtic sprite identical to the one before him. How they lived and dressed in their London home was their affair, but surely, the Bransons could practice a minimum of propriety when they visited Downton!

"Aoife woke me to say that you were not in bed. I thought you would not leave for Ripon until after breakfast? Is everything alright?," Sybbie began, stopping when she realized the presence of company before her family.

"Oh, good morning, please excuse my state" Sybbie said to the crowd of Grandpapa's friends atop horseback, and to Grandpapa, "I'm terribly sorry, Grandpapa. Saoirse was out of bed and Aoife was so distressed that Mamma and Da were too, so when we saw that the front door was open…"

Grandpapa softened at that, Sybbie has after all, always been his little darling.

"It's alright, Sybbie. I was just telling your sister –"

"Sybbie!," Saoirse shrieked at her sister, "I'm going hunting with you and Grandpapa and Georgie!"

It was fortunate perhaps that Aoife's "I'm older than Saoirse, does that mean I can come too?" and Da's mutters over his daughters taking part in such an aristocratic sport in the middle of a crisis were overtaken by Sybbie and Mamma kneeling by the eager little girl, breaking the sad news to her in a manner more gentle than Da , Aoife and Grandpapa if pushed further would have done.

"Darling, Grandpapa is going off to shoot birds and he won't be playing, you wouldn't want that would you?"

"No! But, they're going on an adventure!"

"Saoirse, I'm only doing this is a favor for Aunt Mary. Won't it be more fun to pretend Aunt Mary's pigs are horses?"

"But –,"

"Darling, this won't be your kind of fun, I promise."

And with that, Grandpapa and the elderly crew were off, leaving the insistent child in the much more capable hands of her mother and sister, very much believing that the matter would finally end there.

It would probably have done Grandpapa good to remember who his youngest granddaughter's parents were and to know that for that, Saoirse would not be deterred.

Just as planned, Mamma and Da were off to Ripon after breakfast.

"Do you have to stay in a hotel to watch the pictures?," Aoife, who had yet to see one, inquired shortly after the last crumb had been eaten. Etiquette at the dining room was always more relaxed when Grandpapa was away and today found the nursery's occupants seated among the adults.

"The pictures don't last so long," George carelessly answered from between Granny and Sybbie.

"Then why are Mamma and Da spending the night in Ripon?," Aoife persisted.

"Your Da and I want to spend some time together, darling," Mamma answered from beside Saoirse.

"But you're together now!"

"We want to spend some alone time together, love," Da added from beside Aoife.

"So long as you're careful," Sybbie smirked, cheek coloring her tone.

"Every bit her mother!," Gran Violet sighed, "Vulgarity is no substitute for wit, Sybbie."

The admonition confused Saoirse and turning to her father with the greatest innocence in her voice, she asked, "Da, will you and Mamma be kissing in the hotel too, after you've kissed at the pictures? Is that why you're staying in the hotel, to have more time to kiss? Are you going to make love?"

"Saoirse!," came the scandalized voices from Gran Violet and Granny.

"Your parents will be watching many, many pictures, Saoirse. Won't you Aunt Sybil, Uncle Tom?," George said, rescuing his little cousin from more confusion and his grandmother and great-grandmother from further scandal.

"Oh," Saoirse conceded before continuing, knowing very well what Mamma's answer would be but finding in this the ammunition she would need, "Will it be so terribly boring, Mamma? Can't I come with you?"

"I'm afraid not, darling," Mamma answered, already understanding her daughter's agenda.

"I'll behave, I promise!"

"Darling…"

"Alright then," Saoirse conceded, giving her family the funniest staged sigh, "I suppose I can just go hunting with Sybbie and Georgie and Georgie's friends! They can't be boring old codgers like Grandpapa's friends, would they?"

"Saoirse!," was Gran Violet's admonition, "Please tell me you did not tell them that to their faces this morning!"

"No – but that's what they called themselves, Gran."

"They're not old or boring, exactly" George answered, "But they are quite a grubby and rowdy bunch of fellows, Sissy. Mamma is dragging Sybbie into this to set them straight."

"As if I could do that!" Sybbie retorted, "Charlie Bryant is the only one who doesn't act like he had just escaped from the zoo!"

"And that zoo is supposed to include me? Really, Sybbie, I thought you were my ally!" George laughed, "But really, Saoirse, it's a shame that you and Meg and Aoife are so insistent on joining us when you could spend the day torturing Fraulein Schublig or whatever it is you girls love to do on a beautiful day."

"But they do look so charming, George! Especially Lord Branksome's nephew!," nine-year old Meg swooned.

"Margaret Isobel," Uncle Matthew began, exasperated.

"Isn't he the one Charlie Bryant says is dry as paper?" Sybbie said as an aside to George.

"Oh, you do sound so much like Rose when you talk like that, Meg!" Aunt Mary admonished from beside her daughter as Mamma began to usher Da out the door, seeing hesitancy creep back into his eyes over the fear of his firstborn's inevitable exposure to "those charming boys" and his youngest two's want to partake of the said exposure.

"We best be off," Mamma said as she and Da stood up, followed by Aunt Mary and Uncle Matthew and George and Sybbie, who set off to get dressed for the hunt.

"George, promise me you will stay by Sybbie the entire time," Da implored from the door's threshold, turning to Saoirse and Aoife before exiting entirely, "And the answer is still no."

"The same goes for you, Meg," rang Uncle Matthew's voice.

Not even Gran Violet's disapproving gaze nor Carson's notable look of displeasure could rouse Saoirse from her slouched position as her eyes shot daggers at her father's retreating figure beyond the dining room door.

To be continued...

A/N: Aren't Tom and Matthew the cutest, most adorable overprotective dads in the whole wide world? And to those who may be shocked that Tom and Sybil's five-year old knows about "making love," do you think Sybil would leave any of her girls in ignorance?