Sorry for the delay in updates! But I think I'm going to dedicate a good portion of this weekend in updating this fic, especially since we're getting closer and closer to a certain Irishman's debut ;o) BUT in the meantime, THANK YOU ALL for your continued support and reviews-they are so much fun to read, especially as you all share with me your love of hating this character ;o) :oP can't deny, it is fun to write a villain! I'm dedicating this chapter to the lovely darlingsybil (aka GreyRibbon) as a thank you for the NEW beautiful cover art for this fic, as well as wishing her the very best as she dedicates her time to essay writing (and we all know how much more fun fanfic writing can be!). THANKS FOR READING!
Standing Out
June 1910
Another season.
At least that's what it is to him. He knows it's something quite different for Patrick.
Lady Mary Crawley, eldest daughter to the Earl of Grantham is eighteen, and thus is making her official debut this season.
She is not without her admirers. Indeed, Larry would swear there's a queue half-way down the street with hopes of catching a glimpse of the lovely young lady, as well as perhaps winning the opportunity to dance with her.
How disappointed they will all be when they see her whisked around the ballroom by Patrick. Lord, how he wishes someone would whisk away the girl on his arm.
The Honorable Miss Louisa Belmont is with him this evening. There was no way of getting around it, no matter how desperately he tried. "You will escort Miss Belmont to Lady Mary's ball and that is final!" his father had thundered at him, before muttering something about how Patrick would never cause this sort of fuss.
No, Patrick wouldn't.
Patrick will accept his fate without even bothering to put up a fight. As much as Larry loathes Patrick Crawley sometimes, especially when his own father can do nothing but sing his praises, there are times when he can't help but smirk with pride at himself. Patrick will always do what is believed to be "right" and "honorable", even if it will make him miserable.
Thank God I'm nothing like that! Larry thinks to himself. He may find himself being "forced" to escort Miss Belmont to tonight's ball, but by no means will he propose to the wench, no matter how much huffing and puffing his father attempts.
Thankfully, Miss Belmont loosens her grip from his arm and rushes over to talk with some people she knows. Larry groans a sigh of relief.
He watches as Patrick leads Mary into a waltz, and he can't help but laugh at the sight of two of them; so stiff-backed, so rigid, neither one of them smiling, neither one of them making eye contact!
A match made in hell, he thinks to himself.
He glances off to the side of the room and is surprised to see Edith, sitting next to the Dowager Countess. She's only sixteen, and yet she's here! Too young to dance, however—perhaps Lord and Lady Grantham were hoping she would pick up some pointers from her sister? He can't help but chuckle at the sour expression she wears as she watches Patrick dance with Mary.
A sudden flash of blue catches his eye.
He turns his head and his eyes widen at the sight of…Sybil?
She's there…and she's standing off to the side, pretending to dance! No, not pretending—actually dancing!
By herself.
She practices a curtsey, and then puts her chubby arms around an invisible partner and begins to mimic the other dancers in the room.
She's smiling. She's laughing. She's not even dancing with anyone, but she doesn't even seem to care!
She's in a world all to herself. And she's happy.
Perhaps Patrick is the wrong Crawley to envy?