Merry Christmas! And happy Downton Day! I can hardly believe it's the last one. I don't know what I'll do once its all over.
I wrote this after I saw a prompt on tumblr about one-half of you OTP trying to get the other half under the mistletoe unsuccessfully. It's 2 am here so any errors are mine and a result of lack of sleep. I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review if you have the time. I hope you all have wonderful, stress-free holidays!
Downton Abbey was all abustle with the preparations for Granthams' Christmas Eve party. The tree had come this morning along with all the greenery to make the Abbey look truly magical. The estate workers had placed the tree in the great hall under the watchful eye of Mr. Carson while Mr. Molesley and Andy had searched the attic for its decorations. Mrs. Hughes and her maids had strung the garlands down the staircase and over doorways. A smirking Mr. Barrow had moved throughout the house hanging sprigs of mistletoe at Miss Sybbie and Master George's direction.
Downstairs was just as busy and much more uncomfortably hot, thought Mrs. Patmore as she pulled yet another batch of Christmas biscuits from the oven. She and Daisy had been baking and cooking nonstop since before the sunrise this morning and the kitchen was a steamy mess. She looked around the kitchen to see that Daisy had things well under control and left for the blessedly cooler servant's hall. She needed a moment away from the heat.
Mrs. Patmore turned the corner just in time to see Mr. Carson furtively glance around him and hang what looked suspiciously like mistletoe over the entrance to the servant's hall.
"What's that, then, Mr. Carson?"
The butler visibly jumped as he turned to look guiltily at the cook and pulled at his waistcoat. "Ah, Mrs. Patmore. I was just decorating the servant's hall, as we do every year."
Mrs. Patmore looked around him into the room proper. The only decoration she could see was the mistletoe Mr. Carson had just hung over the doorway. "Well, I can see you've done a fine job of it, Mr. Carson."
"Well," he blushed clearing his throat uncomfortably, "I must be getting on."
Mrs. Patmore watched him scurry up the stairs and smiled to herself. She had a sneaking suspicion that the butler had only wanted to make sure the mistletoe was in place so he could catch a certain housekeeper underneath it later. Still chuckling to herself she walked back to the kitchen to help Daisy finish with the cooking.
Mr. Barrow had finally finished "helping" Miss Sybbie and Master George with hanging the mistletoe. They were with their parents now putting decorations on the tree in the great hall. Mr. Barrow enjoyed spending time with the children, but he was more than happy for some time to himself. Sinking into his chair in the servant's hall he leaned his head back with a sigh. A few minutes of quiet would be enough to get him through the rest of the day.
He soon felt a looming presence and cracked his eyes open to peer at the intruder. Mr. Carson was standing agitatedly in the doorway. Mr. Barrow groaned inwardly at the interruption but soon realized that Mr. Carson was paying him no mind. In fact, his attention was focused down the hallway towards Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. Mr. Barrow sat up at the butler's odd behavior. Whatever could be going on?
Footsteps soon echoed down the staircase making Mr. Carson draw himself up straight. If Mr. Barrow didn't know any better he would think the butler was girding himself for battle.
"Mrs. Hughes!" Mr. Carson called jovially as soon as the housekeeper's head was seen around the corner. Mrs. Hughes stopped to smile at her husband. "I was wondering if you would care for a cup of tea after the morning we've had?"
"Yes, Mr. Carson," she beamed. "Some tea would be lovely. My sitting room, perhaps? I've some figures I'd like to show you as well."
"I thought perhaps the servant's hall?"
"Oh?" Her faced showed as much confusion as Mr. Barrow felt, who was now openly watching the scene before him. "Do you already have the tea laid?"
"Well, no, but-" Mr. Carson began to shuffle his feet uncertainly.
"Well, then, just bring it along to my sitting room."
Mrs. Hughes smiled indulgently at her husband and then walked away to her sitting room. Mr. Carson shoulders sagged as he heaved a great sigh. Mr. Barrow wondered why the man would be so disappointed to have tea with his wife in her private sitting room instead of the very public servant's hall. He soon got his answer when he watched Mr. Carson cast a doleful glance upwards before moving into the kitchen for the tea.
"Well," Mr. Barrow chuckled as he saw the mistletoe hanging in the doorway. "Old Carson's turned quite the romantic."
Anna was looking forward to the end of the day. She was so tired lately, but just thinking about the reason why brought a smile to her face. She placed her hand over her belly protectively as she moved down the hallway towards the servant's hall and hopefully a moment's rest. People always spoke of the joys of motherhood, but they failed to mention the swollen ankles and aching sank gratefully into a chair and accepted Andy's offer of a cup of tea with a smile. As she waited for Andy to come back she noticed Mr. Carson sitting morosely at the end of the table.
"Everything alright, Mr. Carson?"
The butler looked up in surprise but sent her a tired smile. "I should be the one to ask you that."
"I'm perfectly fine," Anna laughed accepting the cup of tea Andy offered her. "But you seemed lost with the fairies a moment ago."
"I was just thinking of the preparations for the party tomorrow evening."
"The great hall looks almost magical with all the decorations in place," Andy interjected.
Anna smiled at his enthusiasm. "Master George, Miss Sybbie, and Miss Marigold were perfectly enthralled with it all."
"Christmas is a time for children," Mr. Carson smiled wistfully. Anna couldn't help but agree with him as she looked down at her growing stomach. She couldn't wait to meet her son or daughter.
"Anna."
She turned at the sound of her name to see Mrs. Hughes walking towards her. Anna glowered at the ease with which Mr. Carson and Andy stood from their seats. She was facing a struggle to get to her feet.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but Lady Mary was asking for you," Mrs. Hughes smiled ruefully. "I tried to offer my help, but she didn't seem to want it."
"That's alright, Mr. Hughes. I'll go to her now," Anna said beginning the task of heaving herself up from her chair.
"Mrs. Hughes, if you have a minute," Mr. Carson called moving towards the doorway where the housekeeper still stood.
"Can it wait?" she asked moving towards the kitchen. "Her Ladyship's changed the menu and I've got to tell Mrs. Patmore."
She was already gone by the time the butler made it to the doorway. Mr. Carson was left standing in the doorway looking forlornly after his wife. Anna moved behind him and smiled up at him.
"Oh! We're under the mistletoe," Anna giggled.
"So it seems," Mr. Carson sighed looking down at her. Anna leaned up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"Bad luck," she explained at his raised eyebrows. Anna looked into the kitchen where Mrs. Hughes was still talking with Mrs. Patmore and smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Carson. You'll catch her soon enough."
Mrs. Patmore had had it with the butler and housekeeper. All day she had watched Mr. Carson try ploy after ploy to try to catch his wife under the mistletoe he had placed above the servant's hall door, and all day she had watched as Mrs. Hughes had remained oblivious to the butler's intentions. Mrs. Patmore was through with the both of them.
After his latest failure, Mr. Carson had slinked off to his pantry in defeated silence. It was almost ridiculous how he had tried to tempt Mrs. Hughes to enter the servant's hall with him with a plate of her favorite shortbread. He had almost made it, too, before one of the day maids had called her away on some trivial matter. Mr. Carson had handed the plate to a confused Andy and went to his room to hide his disappointment. But Mrs. Patmore had seen the injured puppy-dog look he had sent after his wife.
Well, she thought. No more!
Hearing Mrs. Hughes coming back from the laundry Mrs. Patmore decided to set the daft woman straight. She stormed out of her kitchen leaving Daisy to call after her in concern. The commotion caused Mrs. Hughes to turn around and freeze at the sight of the angry cook coming towards her. Mrs. Patmore grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her into the housekeeper's sitting room ignoring her indignant shouts. Slamming the door closed, Mrs. Patmore turned to glare at Mrs. Hughes.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Hughes hissed, roughly pulling her arm from the cook's grasp.
"Are you daft?" Mrs. Patmore asked as calmly as she could.
"What?"
"I said, are you daft?"
"Of course, I'm not-" Mrs. Hughes began haughtily, but Mrs. Patmore cut her off.
"Well, you could've fooled me!" Mrs. Patmore ignored her icy glare. "Your equally daft husband has been trying to get you under the mistletoe all day! And not once have you noticed!"
A shocked silence fell over the room as Mrs. Hughes stared at the cook disbelievingly. "That's what he's been doing? I didn't even notice any mistletoe. Where-?"
"Over the doorway into the servant's hall."
"Oh." Mrs. Hughes looked away from the small cook biting her lip. She had honestly had no idea why Charles had been acting so oddly. She had just assumed- wrongly it would seem- it was stress from the holiday.
Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes at the idiocy of her two closest friends. "Honestly! Just go do something about it. Last time I saw him, the poor man looked heartbroken."
The cook left the housekeeper in her sitting room, hoping she would at least go talk to the butler. God love 'em, she thought, but they were both just so daft!
Charles rubbed his eyes at the blurry numbers in front of him. He glanced at the small clock on his desk and sighed. It was almost time for he and Elsie to go home for the night. If she had the time for walking home with him, he thought darkly.
It was silly, he knew, but since the beginning of December, he had been looking forward to sharing the traditions of Christmas with his wife- specifically, the tradition of mistletoe. He had never really had someone he could meet under the mistletoe for a quick kiss, and now that they were married, he had Elsie. He'd thought placing the sprig of mistletoe over the entrance to the servant's hall would be the best place to catch her. But she had alluded him all day. Sometimes it had seemed almost intentional. Did she not want to be seen kissing him?
A light knock on his door heralded the entrance of the woman in question. She was already in her coat and hat and smiled warmly at him.
"Are you ready to go home, Mr. Carson?"
He glanced down at the rows of numbers in his ledger before closing the book and standing up with a sigh. "Of course, Mrs. Hughes. Just let me get my coat."
She left him alone in his pantry then, as he readied himself for the short walk to their cottage. He left his pantry, closing and locking his door behind him. He glance down the hallway towards the useless spring of mistletoe and thought fleetingly if tearing it down and throwing it in the fire. He turned away in disgust to see Elsie pulling her gloves onto her hands. She smiled at him as he caught her eye and he tried to smile back, but she didn't seem to notice as she began rummaging in her handbag for something.
"Oh, I've left my book at my place on the table," she lamented, looking apologetically at Charles. "Can you fetch it for me?"
Charles barely contained his eye roll as he nodded and headed for the servant's hall. He didn't see why she would need a book now, but he would fetch it for her. He would always do as she asked him if he could.
He found her book where she said she'd left it and picked it up, not bothering to read the title. He just wanted to get home and forget this disaster of a day. Turning around he found Elsie not at the end of the hallway like he'd expected, but standing in the doorway of the servant's hall. He walked over to her to hand her the book.
"Here you are. Now let's go home. I'm tired."
"Just a moment." Elsie stopped him with a hand on his cheek and then leaned up to place a long lingering kiss to his lips. Charles hummed as she deepened the kiss before she pulled away breathlessly. "I'm sorry I didn't notice the mistletoe earlier. I wasn't trying to avoid you."
Charles saw the honesty in her eyes and leaned down to give her another quick kiss. "It's alright, love. It was just a silly idea of mine."
"No, it wasn't silly," she said softly, shaking her head. "I just truly didn't know what you were doing. I've never had anyone want to meet me under the mistletoe so badly."
"I've never had anyone I wanted to meet under the mistletoe so badly," he chuckled. "Not before you."
Elsie sent him a radiant smile and pulled him down for another long kiss. Charles spared a thought for the not-quite-so-useless mistletoe before Elsie threaded her fingers through the hair on the back of his head and he lost all interest in anything except for his wife in his arms.