Gwen drew the covers back and plumped the pillow of Lady Sybil’s bed, the youngest of the Crawley sisters had gone down to breakfast just minutes ago, leaving her room to be cleaned by the maids. Gwen cradled the pillow in her arms, still warm from the night before. She held it to her face and breathed in the scent of hair and perfume, the essence of Lady Sybil.
“Gwen? What are you doing?”
Gwen jumped and turned to see Sybil standing in the doorway. Gwen blushed.
“M’lady! I was just…”
Sybil smiled, her eyes twinkling.
“It’s quite alright, Gwen.”