I do not own them. Period. This was just a thought that came to mind. How Sybbie Branson might feel should Tom marry that woman.
Late 1924
"I think that everything is ready for tomorrow, Mr. Carson. Mrs. Patmore has a handle on the food and the flowers have been delivered to the church," Elsie remarked as she ticked off items on her checklist. "I don't think that I've missed anything."
"No, I'm sure that you haven't," Charles mused as they descended the stairs and rounded the corner into the servants' hall. "How many weddings have we seen at Downton?"
"Well, I'd have to think for a moment but, I'd dare say enough," Elsie laughed. He noticed her eyes narrow as they neared his pantry. She stopped just short of going in and put her hand up in a gesture to stop him. Together, they watched the small figure behind the large desk. Seemingly unaware of the two adults watching her, she took one of Charles pens and opening a ledger book casually flipped to a blank page and commenced drawing.
"What's this?" Charles asked quietly so as not to frighten the child who occupied his chair and was busy scribbling on a page in his ledger. Had it been any other child than Miss Sybbie, Charles might well have reprimanded her straightaway. Instead, he lifted her from his chair, placed her in his lap, closed the ledger and set it aside. "Miss Sybbie, what, may I ask, are you doing downstairs?"
"I don't like her," Sybbie replied with all the defiance a four year old could muster.
"Who, Miss Sybbie? Who is it that you don't like?" Elsie asked as she found a place in the chair opposite the desk.
"Miss Bunt….Miss Bunt…." Sybbie could not remember quite how to say the woman's name or perhaps she pretended not to remember.
"Miss Bunting," Charles finished for her.
"Yes, Miss Bunting," Sybbie replied with a face full of displeasure that made Elsie bite back a smile. She glanced to Charles who could not help but express his disapproval of the schoolteacher with a sympathetic waggle of his eyebrows. This earned him a reprimanding glare from the housekeeper. Charles thought the schoolteacher loud, brash, and completely devoid of manners. She talked of politics and socialism as the family dined, upsetting Lord Grantham on more than one occasion. Not only did Charles hate her politics, but also the lack of respect for the family's history and position was almost more than he could bear.
"Has she upset you Miss Sybbie," Elsie asked with concern.
"She wants to be my mummy," the little girl replied with a quivering lip. Charles reached across the desk and Elsie took his hand as a current of sadness passed between the butler and housekeeper. They remembered the night of the Sybbie's birth; the Abbey had not known such joy in decades. Marriages had taken place, yes. However, a birth, a birth was something different. A new life had come into the world. Yet, just as quickly as she had come into the world, her mother left it. They had wept for Sybil, for the young life cut short. They had wept for the babe who would never know her mother. They cried tears for themselves, for they would miss the sweetest soul under the Abbey's roof.
"Mr. Carson, why don't we take Miss Sybbie for a walk," Elsie offered.
The butler and the housekeeper settled with Miss Sybbie on a bench in the rose garden. Sybbie snuggled between them as Charles placed his arm around Elsie's shoulders. He imagined for a moment that this was them with their grandchild – their other way. However, the time for children and grandchildren had passed. He was content with his life as it was now and she seemed content as well. He glanced in her direction to find her looking down lovingly at the little girl and smoothing her hair back into place.
"Now Miss Sybbie, why don't you tell me exactly why you are so upset," Elsie cooed.
Sybbie looked up at the older woman with sad, teary eyes. "When she marries my daddy, she will be my mummy and I already have a mummy. I don't need her."
Elsie smiled tenderly at the child and pulled her into her lap. "She will be your step-mother. Not your mother. There is a difference," Elsie replied. Sybbie looked unconvinced. Elsie thought for a moment. She had to think of a way to reason with a four year old on a difficult subject. A flash of anger burned within her. Why had no one in the family tried to explain to the child that no one could take the place of her mother? Elsie collected her thoughts and continued. "When your daddy marries Miss Bunting tomorrow, he does not stop being your dad does he?" Sybbie shook her head. "No. He doesn't. He is still your dad. Just because your mummy is in heaven doesn't mean she stops being your mummy." Sybbie thought for a moment.
"Do you have a mummy, Mrs. Carson?" she asked.
Elsie smiled. "I do but my mother is in heaven just like yours," she answered gently. Sybbie then turned to Charles.
"And Carson, do you have a mummy, too?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Sybbie, I do," he answered in his deep baritone voice. He moved to close the gap between himself and his wife. "My mother is in heaven too." Charles watched as Sybbie began to think of her next question.
"Do you think that she knows my mummy?" she asked the butler.
"Well, I imagine that heaven is a big place but I dare say that she might," Charles answered with a smile and a pat on Sybbie's knee.
"Will Daddy forget Mummy since he is marrying Miss Bun….Bunt…Bunting? Will I have to forget the things that people have told me about her?" the girl asked turning to Elsie. Elsie's heart broke to hear such a little girl worry over such matters. To have never known her mother and only to know her through the stories of others was so unfair.
"No lass, he will never forget your mother and people will always speak of her. She was very well loved and admired. Your dad will always love your mother. He has a special place in his heart for her. And now, he has a place in his heart for Miss Bunting," Elsie replied.
"Hearts must be very big," Sybbie said sounding like a question.
"Yes," Elsie replied smiling. "Our hearts are big so that we have room to love many people." Sybbie smiled finally. She was comforted to know that her mother would not be forgotten and Miss Bunting would not quite take her place.
"Can you tell me stories about my mummy, Carson?"
"Yes, Miss Sybbie," Carson replied with a smile and a nod. "Any time you wish. Now, we should get back to the house before people begin to wonder where we are."
Sybbie gave Charles and Elsie each a hug and began to run back toward the house ahead of them. Charles offered his arm to his wife, who took it and they began the walk back to the house together. They walked in companionable silence for a while before Charles broke the silence. "I hope that woman doesn't break her heart," he said gruffly.
"Mr. Branson is a kind soul. I should hope that he might soften her sharp edges," she replied.
"Time will tell," he replied.