Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: Thank you to Guest and CountessCora for reviewing.

The string music seemed to carry on the late summer breeze as the sun shone bright above them. It was a peaceful scene, not the type that Annabelle had ever thought she would enjoy, but even she had to confess that the serenity was somewhat pleasurable, after all the horrors the family had endured.

Cora herself was still white as a sheet, laid on a chaise longue under the canopy with a blanket draped over her legs. Countless people from upstairs and down had tried to persuade her against attending the garden party, but the countess would hear no arguments. The guests expect to see me, she had claimed, each time the question was put to her. I wouldn't want anyone to worry.

Of course, they worried anyway. Robert darted to and fro between his guests and his ailing wife, and her lady's maid, O'Brien, could barely be prised from her side. It was hardly the image of the flawless Lady Grantham Cora would have wished to present, but it was comfort to her daughters and niece to see that she was being well cared for.

Annabelle fiddled with the lace adornments of her dress as she wandered around the grounds. Having been raised in the household of a prominent earl, the girl had gotten used to being dressed like a porcelain doll, but even she drew the line at bright white lace that would not seem out of place on a bride. 'Perhaps this is how they manage those eligible matches.' Annabelle thought idly. 'Dress enough girls in white frocks and parade them around. One day, you'll find a gentleman who imagines she would look a lot more beautiful with a veil and bouquet.'

"I brought you one of Mrs. Patmore's ices." called Sybil, who was standing a few feet away and holding the sweet treat out towards her cousin. Annabelle broke out in a toothy grin; if there was one thing she could not be disappointed in regarding this rather dull party, it was Mrs. Patmore's sweet treats.

"Thank you." Annabelle spoke, through a mouthful of ice cream.

Sybil laughed. "Mind you don't get that all down your dress. Mama would have a fit."

"I doubt it would do it any harm." Annabelle commented under her breath, glaring at the offending lace garment. But then she caught a glimpse of Lady Grantham out of the corner of her eye, watching her four young ladies too intently to be truly resting, and held the sweet a little more cautiously. "I won't make a mess, I promise. I'll be careful."

Her cousin gently inclined her head in thanks, a gesture that looked startlingly similar to Mary, and took a sip from her glass. She seemed about to speak again when something her eye in the distance, and she handed her glass to one of the footmen and ran off before she spoke a word. Annabelle turned, huffing slightly in frustration, to see Branson, the family chauffeur, speak to Sybil animatedly, his face glowing with happiness. Suddenly, she was not quite as irritated anymore.

Perhaps it was because the rest of the Crawleys had more to worry about, or perhaps it was their snooty upbringing that had led them to believe a romance could never blossom between an earl's daughter and a servant, but Annabelle seemed to be the only one who had actually noticed the connection between Sybil and Branson. She did not mind at all- in fact, the young Irishman was one of her favourite members of staff, aside from Daisy and Anna- and she would be glad to wish them well, if she was naïve enough to think Lord Grantham would ever accept it.

"Miss Annabelle?" asked a distinctive Scottish brogue, and the girl turned to see Mrs. Hughes watching her. "Her Ladyship asked if you would go over to see her. I think she thought you could do with some company."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes." Annabelle smiled, heading off in the direction of the tent. The woman cleared her throat pointedly, catching her attention once more. "Is something the matter?"

The housekeeper reached into the pocket of her skirt, retrieving a plain white handkerchief and holding it out towards her. Getting the gist of the woman's helpful instruction, Annabelle dabbed the fabric at the corners of her mouth and running it across her hands, ridding herself of any remnants of Mrs. Patmore's ices that remained in evidence. Handing the handkerchief back with a grateful smile, the young girl set off to see her aunt.

It seemed that Robert had gotten there first, for Annabelle could see him sat on the edge of her chaise, holding her hand tenderly in his own. The sight brought a smile to her face. When she was younger, and her mother had tried to explain the reason why Aunt Cora lived so far away, Annabelle had found the whole thing barbaric, that a man could have as good as bought her aunt away from the home and family she loved. She had thought Robert Crawley must be a monster to do such a thing. It was one of the few occasions she would willingly admit she had been wrong.

Annabelle hung back for a minute or two, until a telegram from Carson finally tore the two. Cora's eyes were narrowed with confusion as her gaze followed her husband across the lawn, and the young girl strode across the tent to comfort her. That is, until her uncle's words stopped her in her tracks.

"Please, can you stop, please?" Robert called out, and the music and chatter fell silent. "My lords, ladies and gentlemen, might I ask for silence. Because I very much regret to announce… that we are at war with Germany."

Cora's trembling hand rose to her mouth, the other almost instinctively reaching out towards the little girl. Annabelle had not even realised her aunt knew she was there, but she did not turn down the cry for comfort, settling herself on the edge of the chaise and nuzzling her head into her aunt's shoulder. She might have been only twelve years old, and had never seen a real war before, but it did not make the fear any less. She knew that guns and bullets took lives, and that ruling governments far away would tear families apart to defend their soil.

It had been more than two years now since the Titanic went down, and yet the same was happening once again. Annabelle had found a loving family, a place where she belonged… and it was all about to be ripped from her fingers again.

A/N: Not the best of chapters, but I needed to get to the war announcement. I'm going to make the same time jump here as the show did, meaning next chapter will be 1916. Hope you enjoyed and please review!