A/N: I got a sort of prompt from one of my reviewers, resulting in this additional chapter. Do enjoy!

Mary ran gentle fingers over her son's head as he slept. It was the small hours of the morning, but she couldn't sleep. So she'd come to the nursery to see the children.

Sometimes she missed her husband so badly that the only person now who could help her remember who she might be was George.

But as she stepped toward the door, she heard a whimper from Sybbie's cot.

"Sybbie?" she whispered, padding over to her while tying her dressing gown tighter about her waist.

"Ann-Mar-ee?" Sybbie intoned in a low voice, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"Why aren't you sleeping, little darling?" Mary put a hand to her face, caressing her niece's cheek gently. She was the very picture of a young Sybil.

"Mama?"

Mary closed her eyes briefly. She knew the little girl meant that she wanted her favorite doll – one that Mama and Papa had bought her in London, one that Mama had thought looked like her youngest. Retrieving the doll from a corner of the nursery, Mary handed it to Sybbie. "Will you sleep now?"

Sybbie stood on her cot and reached out to her with one arm, the other wrapped tightly around the doll. "Mama and Sybbie hungry."

Chuckling softly, Mary took the toddler up into her arms. "Shall we venture down into the kitchens? Maybe Mrs. Patmore will have some biscuits tucked away for you?"

With her pudgy arm encircling her aunt's neck, Sybbie shook her head. "Ann-Mar-ee, Mama and Sybbie want eggs."

Mary pulled the little girl closer to her, kissing her flushed cheek. "Then eggs you shall have." She departed the nursery and made her way down the hall. Descending the servants' stairs, she flipped the switch to light the kitchen. "Will you sit here whilst Aunt Mary gets what she needs to make your eggs, my darling?"

Sybbie nodded gravely while Mary placed her down on a bench at the preparation table. Going to the larder, she took down a bowl of eggs and a bottle of oil. Then, leaving these on the table, she went about getting another bowl, a whisk, and a frying pan. She turned on the stove and began preparing the eggs, thinking back to how Mrs. Patmore had taught her to scramble eggs in this very kitchen, a little over two years ago.

The child watched her aunt with wide eyes, apparently fascinated, and clutched the doll to her chest. "Mama likes eggs best," she said in a tone that brooked no refusal.

Glancing at her, Mary grinned. "I'm sure she does, little one. Does Sybbie like eggs best as well?"

Nodding again, Sybbie hugged the doll closer to her. "Other nanny wouldn't give them me."

Remembering what her mother had told her about Nanny West, Mary leaned close to Sybbie over the bowl of eggs she was beating. "Well, you needn't worry about that ever again, darling girl." She smiled and continued to whisk the eggs into a mixture that she then poured into the oil-coated pan.

When Mary put the plate of scrambled egg in front of Sybbie, the girl crowed and set her doll on the bench next to her. Picking up her fork, she shoveled egg into her mouth, an exultant expression upon her face.

Mary laughed lightly. "Sybbie darling, slow down."

"Good, Ann-Mar-ee." She looked up with a grin, bits of egg at the corners of her mouth and over her chin.

"What do you look like?" Mary chuckled and picked up a serviette, wiping the child's face gently. She watched Sybbie go back to her eggs and remembered the reason she'd learned to cook eggs in the first place. She sat down across from the little girl who resembled her mother so much and did her best not to cry.

Instead, she smiled at Sybbie and waited until she put her fork down and lifted her head. Picking up her doll, she yawned. "Mama and Sybbie tired."

Mary put all the dirty dishes into one of the sinks, knowing that one of the maids would take care of it, as they always did. Mrs. Patmore knew who came into the kitchen in the middle of the night to make eggs at times. The maids had their instructions.

Catching up Sybbie by her upturned arms, Mary settled her onto her hip and drew her close as she ascended the stairs. Sybbie clutched the doll to her chest, her head upon Mary's clavicle, her eyes drooping. But when Mary tried to put her into her cot, Sybbie squirmed and exclaimed, "No, don't leave me, Ann-Mar-ee." She dropped the doll onto the nest of blankets and encircled her arms around Mary's neck.

"Shhhhh, little one. I won't leave," she whispered. Mary knew she wouldn't sleep anyway, so why not stay here and comfort Sybbie? "But we don't want to wake anyone else. Alright?"

Sybbie nodded before nuzzling into Mary's neck, sighing happily as her aunt lowered them both into the rocking chair. Mary glided a hand over the toddler's curls, humming softly to her as she felt her breath become deep and even, her arms loosening their hold a trifle, but remaining around her neck. As Sybbie's breath feathered over the hollow of her throat, Mary closed her eyes and wondered how to tell this little girl about her mother. What words could ever be enough?

The darkness in the room had gone from charcoal black to deep grey when Mary stirred at a noise. A light came on, and Tom jumped when he saw them in the chair. "Is something wrong with Sybbie?"

Mary shook her head and gave a small yawn. "No. She didn't want to be left."

"How long have you been here?" Tom sat down in a chair next to them and ran his hand over his daughter's head lovingly.

Peering at the clock, Mary shrugged her unoccupied shoulder. "A few hours, perhaps? I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep."

Tom let out a low chuckle. "Well, at least some of us can sleep."

"You can't?" At his shake of the head, Mary nodded. "Nor could I. I came to check on the little darlings, and this one –" she inclined her head down at Sybbie – "decided she was hungry. So we went down into the kitchens together."

"Where she asked for a biscuit or some cake, I'm sure." He grinned indulgently, his eyes sweeping over the little form in Mary's arms.

But Mary let out a low laugh. "In fact, I offered biscuits, but she asked for eggs. So I made them for her."

Tom's eyebrows leapt up until they nearly touched his hairline. "You – you did what?" he asked in a loud whisper.

"I made Sybbie scrambled eggs. She quite enjoyed them, I think." Mary smiled softly.

"But – Mary, you know how to make eggs?" Tom's tone exuded incredulity.

"Yes, I do." She wrapped her arms tighter around her niece as she stirred slightly. "And if you would be so kind as to pretend it doesn't shock you, then I'll tell you the story behind my knowing how."

Tom grinned. "I apologize, Mary. But it is somewhat of a shock."

"I am not insensible of that, Tom." Mary smiled at him. "I'll tell you, on one condition. You don't tell anyone."

"Of course I won't, Mary."

At this, Mary nodded and launched into her tale. She carefully kept her eyes upon Sybbie's form sleeping against her, not knowing how Tom might react.

When she'd finished, Mary finally focused her eyes upon Tom. He gazed at her, tears in his eyes. "One day, you'll have to teach Sybbie how to scramble eggs."

Mary smiled warmly at him. "I would like that. Very much."