A shock coursed through Emma, and tears welled up in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. Lady Sybil was no longer there. The thought that she could never speak or correspond with her again was painful. She loved Lady Sybil, valued her wise advice, imagination, generosity, and humor. Thomas, who believed his pain from Lady Sybil's passing was already immense, had his heart shattered seeing his daughter so distraught.

"But..." Emma sobbed, but she had to cut her sentence short. She turned to her Dad, burying her face in his shoulder. "Her baby," Thomas could discern from her several sobs. He gently extended his hand and began to stroke it up and down Emma's back, trying to comfort his little dwarf, but it was just as much a comfort to him. Emma clung tightly to him, and he could feel her heart beating faster. He felt her tears on his shoulder as he gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.

As he held his daughter in his arms, he didn't dare to even dream of how Lord and Lady Grantham must be feeling at this moment. They had lost their daughter, and the thought that the same could happen to Emma choked him up. The mere thought was unbearable and brought the painful reality of life's transience even closer. Thomas held Emma even tighter, as if he wanted to protect her from all the evil in the world.

Father and daughter remained in this sad embrace for a while, as the world around them seemed to stand still. Grief hung heavy in the air, and thoughts swirled in their minds, full of memories of Lady Sybil. Finally, Thomas broke the silence. "We must get up," he noted, looking at the clock. Although he wouldn't want to send Emma to school in this state, there were duties and rules they both had to adhere to at the Abbey. And one of them was to be punctual for breakfast.

"Daddy," Emma whispered with a broken voice, "I don't want to get up now. I just want to stay here, with you."

Thomas understood Emma's sentiment all too well. He continued to hold her close, savoring the warmth of their shared grief. "I know, my little dwarf. I don't want to let you go either, but we have responsibilities. Lady Sybil would want us to carry on, as difficult as it may be."

Emma looked up at her father, her eyes still moist with tears. "But it's not fair that she is gone. She just had a baby."

Thomas sighed, his own grief echoing in his voice. "Life is rarely fair, my love. But we honor those we've lost by living the best way we can. Remembering them, carrying their spirit with us. You know, one day, you'll share all the stories with Lady Sybil's daughter."

Emma nodded slowly and lifted her head, "I will do that," she smiled sadly.

They reluctantly untangled themselves from the embrace, and Thomas stood up, offering his hand to Emma. "Let's face this day together, Emma."

As they made their way downstairs, the atmosphere at Downton Abbey was heavy with sorrow. The staff moved quietly, and the usually bustling halls felt like a mausoleum of memories. The news of Lady Sybil's passing had already spread through the estate, and a somber mood enveloped the entire household.

The girl walked down the corridor when she heard a soft sniffle from Carson's office. She knocked on the door and waited for a moment, but it seemed her knocking went unnoticed. Emma slowly opened the door and entered. Mister Carson sat behind his desk, his head heavy in his hands.

"Mister Carson," Emma spoke softly.

The butler slowly raised his head and looked at Emma with sad, moist eyes. His usually stoic expression was broken, and his deep sorrow was evident.

"Emma Grace," he said with a shaky voice, wiping a tear from his cheek, "What brings you to me?"

Emma approached and sat carefully on the chair opposite Carson. She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "I miss Lady Sybil – just like everyone else here."

Carson nodded, but the words seemed difficult for him to articulate. "I've known her all her life – since her birth – it's so incomprehensible."

Emma rose from her chair and moved closer to Carson. She leaned in gently and embraced him. Carson hesitated for a moment before finally accepting the comfort in the hug and clinging to Emma.

The two held each other in a silent embrace for a while, the weight of Lady Sybil's absence hanging heavily in the air. Carson's normally composed demeanor had crumbled, revealing a vulnerability that Emma had never seen before. As they pulled away from the hug, Carson attempted to regain his composure, clearing his throat.

After a while, Carson slowly released himself from the embrace and wiped the tears from his eyes. "The staff must not find out about this."

"I know, Mister Carson."

The day of Lady Sybil's funeral dawned, draped in gray clouds that mirrored the somber mood that enveloped Downton Abbey. The estate seemed to hold its breath as the inhabitants prepared to say their final goodbyes to a beloved member of their family. Emma, wearing a simple black dress, clung to her father's arm. Her eyes were red from crying, but there was a quiet strength in her posture. Thomas offered a reassuring squeeze to his daughter's hand. As Lady Sybil's casket was lowered into the ground, a profound silence settled over the gathered mourners. Lord Grantham placed a single white rose on the casket, a symbol of purity and love. Lady Grantham clutched a handkerchief, her eyes reflecting the pain of a mother who had lost a daughter.

"Chin up, Mr. Barrow. Wearing a long face won't help either," remarked Alfred as he took a bite of his apple. Emma glared at the servant, tempted to throw the porridge at him.

"Leave him be. He knew Lady Sybil better than any of us," Anna said.

"Except for you – and of course, Emma – we three are the ones who truly knew her," remarked Thomas.

"I'd say your grief speaks for itself," Jimmy said empathetically. At the same time, Mr. Carson entered the servants' hall and placed a tray on the table. He surveyed his staff until his gaze settled on Emma.

"Emma Grace," Carson spoke, "Would you please take the tray up to the nursery? Mr. Branson explicitly emphasized not wanting to see any of the family or the staff, and since you are neither, Lord Grantham and I have decided that you should check on Mr. Branson."

None of the present servants objected to the decision, not even Thomas, who often disagreed with Mr. Carson.

"I don't think I could be of much help, but I can take it upstairs," Emma said.

"You would be a great help to us," emphasized Mrs. Hughes, who had suddenly entered the room, "Especially since the little baby up there suffered a similar fate to yours."

Mrs. Hughes helped her fasten a black armband on her upper arm. Then, Emma took the tray in her hands and carefully carried it up the stairs to the nursery, located in the gallery.

"Hello, Tom," she greeted politely, "I've brought you your breakfast."

"Hello, Emma," he smiled sadly, "Just set it on the dresser." The little baby slept in his arms. Emma followed his suggestion, then stood awkwardly, facing the man with empty hands.

"Is it hard?"

"Sometimes. There are moments when I miss my mama. I don't even know what she looks like because Dad doesn't have a photo. I only know from stories that I have her freckles and hair," she replied, "But I have an amazing dad who's always there for me and loves me a lot. That makes it easier."

"I just can't imagine life without her. Sybil would have been a great mum."

"She always took great care of me. I'm endlessly grateful to her. She was like a mother to me. And I have no doubt that she would have been the best mum in the world for the baby."

Mr. Branson approached slowly, revealing the face of the little infant. "She's so beautiful and so tiny!" Emma marveled.

"I'm thinking of naming her Sybil – Sybbie – as a nickname, but please don't tell anyone yet."

"Hello, Miss little Sybbie," Emma smiled, offering her small hand to the baby. Immediately, Sybbie grabbed onto her little finger. "If you ever need support or just want to sneak a piece of chocolate, I'm always here for you like a big sister."

"Did you hear that, darling? You've just gotten your very first friend."

Since Emma didn't have a pocket watch and there was no clock in the baby's room, she was surprised to learn how long she had been away. The staff was now having lunch, indicating that she had spent several hours with Mr. Branson.

"How is Mr. Branson?" asked Anna.

"He's very sad."

"And it took you a whole three hours to figure that out?" Jimmy wondered.

"We talked, and he introduced me to Miss... he introduced me to his daughter."

"He told you the name, did he?" teased Daisy.

"Yes, he did... it's a beautiful name. You'll find out soon."

"It's lovely that we still have a pianist in the house," Anna smiled and turned to Mrs. Hughes with concern, "Or do you think it's too soon?"

"Oh no," Mrs. Hughes shook her head, "Lady Sybil was a cheerful young lady. She would be happy with some music... You play really well, James," praised the housekeeper.

"Well, Jimmy's talents are boundless," remarked Thomas, placing his hands on Jimmy's shoulders – just for a brief moment – before removing them and looking around the room. His gaze fell on Emma, who was sitting at the table reading a book.

"May I have this dance?" Thomas now extended his uninjured hand to her. Emma placed her hand in his, and Thomas began to twirl her around in a circle. The piano music filled the room, and Thomas led Emma gently across the floor. Her small feet danced in harmony with the melody as they twirled in circles.

"His lordship is asking for you," Mrs. O'Brien announced, and the dance came to an abrupt stop. Without a word, Thomas disappeared, and Emma immersed herself once again in her book.