A/N – My very first Downton fic. It's kind of silly, I guess, but I had fun writing it and that's what counts.
i.
The door to the pantry was open and a light burned inside, otherwise Thomas did not think he would believe it occupied this early on Christmas morning. The cold had woken him and he'd come down to warm himself up by the fire in the hall. Mr Carson did not need to be out of bed so early either but it seemed that he was. Or, at least, someone was. A low voice resonated from the room, a voice that would be familiar if it wasn't singing.
Singing.
He stepped closer to the pantry, to better hear over the noise of the early morning kitchen routine.
It was definitely singing.
And it was definitely Mr Carson.
The old bugger had his back to the door, as he sifted through some papers on his desk, warbling his way through something that sounded like 'Silent Night', if Thomas wasn't mistaken.
He watched, out of sight. What on earth had happened? Three ghosts in the night, to show the grumpy old sod the error of his ways, just in time for Christmas? Ebenezer Scrooge's transformation was more likely than this one and Thomas had always bloody hated that book.
Whatever it was, something was different.
ii.
Christmas Day was always a hive of activity and Anna relished it. She loved to see the smiles on people's faces and hoped she might glimpse the children during the day. Lady Mary would allow it, if she asked. And now that John was home again, she had hoped for their own child in time for next Christmas.
Before breakfast, she went to seek out Mrs Hughes in her sitting room, to ask her about the arrangements for their own dinner later in the day. She knocked and opened the door, as was usual, and caught Mrs Hughes hurriedly putting a mirror down on the desk. Mrs Hughes was blushing a little, caught in the act of looking at herself, but she recovered quickly and smiled, reaching out to embrace her.
"Anna, Merry Christmas. I heard Mr Bates is home."
"Merry Christmas, Mrs Hughes," Anna smiled, "He got back last night."
Neither of them mentioned the mirror, because it didn't really matter. It was unusual though and Anna let herself think on it, just for a moment.
Whatever it was, something was happening.
iii.
Mr Carson dropped the fork for the egg platter. It clattered on the tray and fell to the carpet, and Molesley bit his lip.
"Apologies, my lord," Mr Carson rumbled, but his lordship just waved it off with a smile, turning back to Mr Branson and his conversation.
But Mr Carson had dropped something.
Mr Carson never, ever dropped a thing. He had too much pride in his position to do something like that. His lordship might wave it off but Mr Carson never would, not usually.
Molesley watched as he picked the fork up and carried it carefully over to the used plates, slow and deliberate in every move, like he needed to concentrate to do even that. Then he just turned away, shrugged it off and went back to gazing at the fireplace, as he had been before.
He'd never acted like this in all the years Molesley had known him, not once. It was like he was…distracted. He didn't even notice Molesley watching him, like he normally would. Even Mr Barrow was eying him suspiciously and then he looked at Molesley and raised an eyebrow.
Whatever it was, something was happening.
iv.
They took a late breakfast, around eleven, to last until the servant dinner later that evening. Miss Baxter arrived a little late, occupied by her ladyship and her dressing, and rounded the table to take her seat between Anna and Mr Barrow. It wasn't until she sat down that she realised what she had seen – Mrs Hughes' knee, pressed against Mr Carson's under the table.
She looked up from her plate and stole a glance at the housekeeper, who looked and spoke no differently than she had yesterday but who seemed…different, somehow. A little happier than she had been, a little lighter in her demeanour.
And it seemed like she was not the only one to notice. Mr Barrow had his eyes fixed on them, Anna and Mr Molesley throwing interested glances at the both of them. Anna caught her looking, gave such a small shrug of her shoulders that you would not have known she had, unless you were looking for it.
With a smile, although she wasn't sure why, Miss Baxter turned back to her plate.
Whatever it was, something was different.
v.
When he came to talk to her, in the kitchen, Mrs Patmore knew something had happened. His smile was beaming, or at least he was beaming, like she had never seen from him before. She had come to believe he was not much capable of looking like that.
"Have you everything you need, Mrs Patmore?"
"I do, thank you, Mr Carson," she said, less snappy than she would have been on an ordinary day. She was intrigued, that much was sure and it was Christmas, after all.
"I have complete faith in you, Mrs Patmore," he said, almost casually, "You never let this household down."
"Why do you say that today, Mr Carson? Just because it's Christmas?"
"Perhaps I am learning to appreciate the things I have."
When Elsie walked past the kitchen door and his eyes followed her the whole way, Mrs Patmore knew what had happened.
She went back to her gravy, smiling behind her hand to keep it from the youngsters.
It had finally happened. Something was different.
vi.
He'd come out for a cigarette, a filthy habit he had picked up again in Ireland. Anna hated it, and he would stop, but only after Christmas. Today he felt he deserved it. Today, John would treat himself.
Mrs Hughes was standing in the yard, no coat on, her breath misting in the air. She was looking up at the stars.
"Mrs Hughes," he murmured, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, "Do you mind if I-"
"Not tonight, Mr Bates," she smiled, "You can keep me company."
"It seemed sure to snow last night," he said, lighting up, "But it doesn't now."
"I don't mind," she smiled, turning to him, "It's good to have you home, Mr Bates. We miss you, when you're away, Mr Carson and I."
Her voice caught a little on 'Mr Carson and I', and he thought she looked even happier when she said it, like Anna did when she called things 'ours'. She was back to normal just as quickly though, as though she hadn't slipped at all.
Whatever it was, something had happened.
vii.
They gathered around the tree in the servant's hall late that night, to exchange the gifts that had been placed there during the day. The family was occupied upstairs, with a self-serve buffet so that the servants could enjoy a few hours off. Elsie loved this part of the day, more than any of the rest of it. They were well-fed, a delicious dinner from Beryl already over, and now Elsie took her place beside the tree. She always handed out the gifts, every year.
Mr Carson had taken the seat next to her and she felt a delicious thrill in her stomach as she looked at him, the same one she had been having all day when she remembered their meeting last night. The joy threatened to consume her if she was not careful to contain it. No that she really minded.
"The first one is for…Daisy," she read from the label, handing it to Mr Carson for him to pass it on. His fingers brushed hers, just for a second, and she felt herself blush. Turning her face to conceal it, she reached far to the back of the tree.
When she pulled herself back out, her own gift for Anna in her hand, she found herself being subject to what felt like a silent interrogation.
Mr Bates and Anna were exchanging a look, her hand clasped in his. Molesley was whispering in Miss Baxter's ear and Mr Barrow was looking with interest between Mr Carson and Elsie herself, like he had just worked out a solution to a problem that had been bothering him all day. Beryl was not even aiming for subtlety, smirking at her with eyebrows raised– actually smirking.
Elsie handed Anna her parcel and saw what had given them away – Mr Carson had blushed too, when their hands touched, but he could not hide under the tree. It was like a beacon, shining on the pair of them, for any who cared to look.
Ah well.
The best kept secrets never did stay secret for long.