A/N 1: I'm back, and happy to be with you again! Enjoy!
The recently-retired Beryl Patmore was on her way from Yew Tree Farm into Downton village. Due to join Elsie Carson for luncheon, after, they would attend the monthly hospital volunteers' meeting. Beryl didn't know what she was getting herself into necessarily, but Elsie had persuaded her good and long-time friend of the importance of volunteer efforts.
And whilst Beryl really was up for nearly anything to help fill her days besides cooking for just two - occasionally four, maybe six – once she and Albert were married, she didn't know why on earth Elsie had asked that she meet her at the Downton Public Library of all places.
Mrs. Patmore entered the building that had only opened some six months ago, one of many gifts to the residents of Downton bequeathed by the Dowager upon her passing. Not finding Elsie in the library's vestibule, Beryl was unsure where to turn to next as it was, all things considered, a rather sizeable building. She took a chance and asked the young woman behind the circulation desk if she knew Mrs. Carson to be in the building. The kindly, smart-looking woman smiled and directed Mrs. Patmore to the North wing of the building, opposite her.
Reading the sign beside that archway, Beryl stopped and turned to clarify, "Mrs. Carson is in the Children's library?"
The young woman smiled again, and nodded, "And Mr. Carson too. It's Tuesday."
Beryl was solidly confounded as she walked that direction, only as she drew closer she heard the animated voice of Charles Carson followed by a menagerie of high-pitched giggles. As she walked through the doorway, Beryl paused again, charmed by the sight in front of her: the Carsons sitting on a settee, a red-headed, bespectacled little lass between them. Mrs. Carson was holding the children's book The Secret Garden in front of her as her husband read aloud to the six member group of pre-schoolers seated on the floor in front of them, and two mothers beyond them in chairs, all listening intently.
When an astonished Mrs. Patmore remarked, "Well, I'll be damned!" not quite as under her breath as she'd intended, one of the mother's tssk'd her.
"…and his eyes full of laughter, was Master Colin Craven. The young boy was walking as strongly as any other ten-year-old boy! The End."
"Yay, Mr. Cawson!" One of the little lads cheered from the floor, breaking the spells of the mesmerized lass seated on the settee sucking her thumb, and Elsie. Looking up, Elsie noted her friend's arrival with a smile and reached to extract the lass's thumb from her mouth. The others joined in the clapping, as did Elsie upon closing the book.
"Thank you, children, thank you very much. But please, be sure to thank Mrs. Carson too!" Charles beamed in Elsie's direction as he in turn applauded her.
Just then the lass between the Carsons turned herself around and knelt on the seat cushion, leaning up to gently kiss Elsie on the cheek.
"Oh, petal, that's very kind of you."
Lowering his voice and his chin, Charles addressed the lass, "That was a lovely story wasn't it, Becky? Thank you for your help." When he looked up again, he noticed Mrs. Patmore's arrival.
"Ah, well lads and lasses, I'm afraid Mrs. Carson needs to leave us now." Consulting his pocket watch, Mr. Carson continued, "Thankfully, we have time for one more story together. Whose turn is it now?"
"Mine!" A lad shot up and toward Carson.
"Okay, Timothy, one moment, please." The Carsons stood and helped Becky down from the settee. "Goodbye, Mrs. Carson," Charles said to his wife, a silly side grin on his face, "See you at home later this afternoon."
"Kiss!" Becky smiled up at them.
The three other little lasses echoed her, whilst Timothy voiced a different opinion, "Yucky!"
Normally, Charles was hesitant to share affections in public but in this moment, he wanted to set young Timothy straight, that there was nothing 'yucky' about kissing your wife, and so sensing no objection from the now clapping mothers, and certainly not his wife, Charles leaned over and kissed a delighted Elsie on the cheek. "Oh my. Thank you, Mr. Carson, you flatterer."
As Elsie walked toward Beryl, she heard her husband address the tyke in front of him, "Now then, Timothy, what is it you'd like us to read together? Oh, Mr. Pufferbill, the train engineer! Excellent! Will you hold the book for me too? Wonderful."
As Beryl and Elsie stepped toward the exit, Elsie took one last look over her shoulder toward her husband who was looking her direction and winked before turning his attention to the lad who was settling in beside him, book propped on his knees.
A/N 2: Mr. Pufferbill– a Little Golden Book – was the first book that I could "read" by myself. Somehow the four-year-old me was able to memorize all 20+ pages in this picture book. I revisited the story a about a decade ago and was dumbfounded with how many words there were – lots, ~500!