Just a Trim
"Is it your shoulder, then?"
Miss Baxter startled and dropped the button she was clutching in her fist to the floor. With a murmured apology and a reddening face, Mr. Molesley chased it until he captured it under his foot. Looking quickly around the servant's hall to ensure they weren't being observed, he smiled and placed it in Miss Baxter's open hand, taking slightly longer to do so than might be considered appropriate. The corners of Miss. Baxter's lips curled up in a tiny smile, then her face resumed it's usual pleasant, neutral expression so quickly, Mr. Molesley wondered if he'd actually seen it.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd been lost imagining Phyllis Baxter's smiles.
"Thank you, Mr. Molesley. You've saved me an embarrassing scramble. I don't have another button like these, and I certainly couldn't repair Her Ladyships gown with mismatched buttons." Her eyes twinkled with amusement and she gently squeezed his hand before releasing it.
"Well…it was my fault," he stammered. "For startling you, I mean."
"Yes," Miss Baxter agreed pleasantly. She was startled when his face fell and realized he'd misunderstood. "I mean, yes. It's my shoulder." Miss. Baxter rolled her left shoulder with a pained expression.
"Can I…?" Mr. Molesley began, stepping closer to her chair, "Can I help?"
"With the buttons, or with my shoulder?" she asked with a smile.
"Er…your shoulder, actually." At her nod, he stepped even closer and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She sat perfectly still as his thumb began moving over her collarbone, probing lightly until he found the knot in her muscle. With a little smile, he pushed his thumb down firmly and began to massage.
Miss. Baxter tipped her head down and leaned forward with a quiet groan. Mr. Molesley stopped for a second at the noise, looking frantically around to make sure no body had noticed. Then he resumed his efforts, trying not to overreact to the pleased little noises Miss. Baxter was making. Without meaning to, he found his fingers lightly stroking along her neck as his thumb worked out the knot in her shoulder
"Is it feeling better?" he asked in a low voice, bending down nearer to her ear.
"Much better," she murmured back, shivering a little as his breath tickled the hair behind her ear. The tension in her neck and shoulder was beginning to melt away marvelously. "You're a man of many talents, Mr. Molesley."
"Me?" he scoffed. "Not really…" He drew in a breath as she reached up and placed her hand on his.
"Yes, you," she said firmly. She turned her head slightly, so that her cheek rested against his hand on her shoulder.
"Well…if you say so, Miss Baxter."
"I do say so. And thank you, Joseph."
Again, Mr. Molesley looked around quickly to make sure they weren't being overheard or seen. They could hear foot steps in the corridor and voices from the kitchen, but no one appeared in the doorway to glare, or stare, or wonder.
"You're welcome, Miss Baxter. Anytime."
She rolled her eyes and turned her head towards him, pressing her cheek against his knuckles. He couldn't help smiling down at her.
"You're very cautious," she said conversationally.
"Shouldn't I be?" he asked as he idly caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
She parted her lips to respond as Daisy's voice came closer to the servant's hall. Reluctantly, she turned back towards the table and bent over her work. Mr. Molesley had jumped away from her side as if he'd been burned. If Daisy had cared to look twice at the expression on his face, she'd have most certainly thought something was going on. Miss Baxter glanced over at him, then smiled down at her sewing. Daisy slammed a plate on the table, said a cheerful hello to them both, and returned to the kitchen.
As if her entrance was a signal, servants began trickling into the hall, chatting quietly and grouping together. Mr. Molesley breathed a sigh of relief; it was easier to be near Miss Baxter and talk when there was a noisy crowd around. No one ever seem to pay them much mind. Scooting into the chair next to her at the table, he leaned forward on his elbows as if interested in the work she was doing.
"Not so cautious now, Joseph?" she said out of the side of her mouth.
"Seems easier to hide in plain sight," he replied, focusing on her fingers pulling the thread through the buttons as if he'd never seen anything so fascinating. Miss. Baxter smiled as she cut the thread and gave a few testing tugs on the button.
"It worked for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes," she said, smiling at his confused, then flabbergasted look.
"You don't think they…uh…they were walking out or anything before the engagement?"
"Not officially."
"Well, if anyone could miss something like that, it would be me," he admitted. "I've not been paying attention to anyone besides you."
Miss Baxter went a little pink on her neck and smiled wider. "Haven't you? Well, you'd make a terrible ladies maid."
"Don't I know it," he replied with a snort. "All those hooks and tiny buttons. I don't know how any of you do it."
"It's not as difficult as all that," she said, gathering up her work and standing as the room filled. "Maybe you'll find out someday."
Mr. Molesley's mouth flapped open and he turned bright red as Miss. Baxter left to go put her things away.
"God, I hope so," he muttered to himself, ignoring the curious looks of the maid sitting across the table, as his eyes followed her out of the door.
With her last words echoing through his head, Mr. Molesley had his tea, unable to meet her eyes as she sat next to him. Bells began to summon the downstairs staff to the rarified nights of bedrooms, drawing rooms, and dining rooms. Mr. Molesley stumbled his way through his footman duties, earning disgruntled looks and snappish comments from Mr. Carson. To be fair though, it didn't really seem as if Mr. Carson had his mind fixed on the tasks at hand. Mr. Barrow, however, took up the slack of making certain Mr. Molesley felt quite inadequate to the job.
With Mr. Barrow's snide and supercilious comments still ringing in his ears, Mr. Molesley was delighted to just sit and catch up on the paper after supper. It took effort, but he managed to push aside Miss. Baxter's last comment and the images it conjured in his head of unhooking, untying, unbuttoning….there was a word. Unbuttoning…small buttons squeezing through smaller holes, suddenly releasing great swaths of fabric and loosening tension until there was nothing defying gravity…
With a great huff and rattling of his paper, he dragged his mind back to the state of the world.
"Anything interesting, Mr. Molesley?"
He looked up, surprised to see that most of the other servants had gone up to bed. Mr. Bates was settling down with a book to read, waiting for Anna to finish with Lady Mary, and Madge was bustling through the servant's hall with several pairs of Lady Edith's shoes. There were crashes still in the kitchen and the light was on under Mr. Carson's pantry door, but otherwise, he and Miss. Baxley were alone.
"A few things, Miss Baxter," he said, sitting up and preparing to cast his paper aside. Her eyes were tired, but they sparkled at him in the low light. She laid her hand quickly on his arm.
"Why don't you tell me? I'm not sure when I'll have the time to take in a newspaper." She leaned over his shoulder to peruse the front page.
"Well," he began, clearing his throat, "there's quite a bit in here about the upcoming vote on the Administrations of Estates Act. It seems like there may be some big changes for them upstairs."
"Like what?"
"Like everything, really. It could do away with the legal rule of primogeniture, and that would change who can inherit estates like Downton. Things like entails on estates like this might not have force of law anymore." His voice grew more animated as he shared the differing opinions represented in the newspaper, and Miss. Baxter paid less attention to the content of his explanations than to the excitement on his face as he spoke.
"That would change things," she agreed. "But is there any chance of it passing, Joseph?"
"I couldn't say…" he mused. "But things are changing all over, Phyllis." She squeezed his shoulder and smiled at his use of her Christian name.
"Some things don't change fast enough," she murmured. "I'd like it if you called me by my name all the time, instead of just when no one's listening. Pity there isn't an act before Parliament to put paid to some of these traditions."
Mr. Molsley looked up at her with a pained expression. "Sorry," he said in a low voice. "I forgot myself."
Throwing a quick glance across the room, and confirming that the only other person there was Mr. Bates, buried in his book, Miss. Baxter sat down next to him and pulled her chair close to his.
"I don't care that it's not considered proper for you to use my first name, Joseph. I've said that before."
"We'll get called on the carpet if anyone superior overhears," he said weakly. "And we'll be the subject of gossip if anyone else does."
"I'm not so sure Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes would be as concerned as they might have been once."
"Maybe not," he acknowledged, "but I couldn't bear the whispers and comments about you from everyone else."
"I've put a great deal of effort into keeping my past out of common knowledge, Joseph, mostly to no effect" She laid her hand on top of his and squeezed it gently. "I don't want to have to do the same with my present."
Mr. Molesley felt a catch in his throat and turned his own hand up to grasp her fingers. "I don't want to either. But I don't see any other way. At least, not now."
"Nor do I," she said with a sigh. While a reprimand for unprofessional behavior wouldn't be too high a price to pay, the possibility always lurked that one or both of them could be sacked. And she worried it would be Mr. Molesley, if a choice had to be made to let one of them go.
"I just like the way my name sounds when you say it," she added.
"I'll try to say it whenever I can then," he whispered with a smile. "Phyllis."
They both looked over as Anna Bates swept into the servants hall and went straight to her husband, never even noticing the two of them sitting dangerously close at the table. For a moment, Miss Baxter felt a clenching in her heart that she recognized as envy. She stifled a yawn as they said their goodbyes and left for their cottage. But she didn't stifle it well enough.
"You're tired out," Mr. Molesley commented. She nodded with a little smile. "Go on up then," he urged, folding his paper.
"We get little enough time to just talk," she protested. "I hate to cut what we do get short, just for a few more moments in bed…" Alone… she finished in her head.
Mr. Molesley clenched his jaw, ruthlessly trying to tamp down the thoughts that rose up in his head at her words. His smile was strained, and became a surprised grimace when she reached over and gently ran her hand across his neck, just over his collar.
"You need a trim," she informed him, pulling gently on the short hairs at the base of his skull. "I saw that when I leaned over to read the paper earlier."
Mr. Molesley forced himself not to let his head roll back against her hand, but couldn't stop the little moan that escaped him as her fingers danced over his neck.
"I'll have to take care of that my next half day," he choked out.
Miss. Baxter took her hand away and stood facing him with her hands clasped in front of her. "If we get a free couple of minutes… I could do it for you. In the courtyard, if the weather is fine."
"You can cut hair?" he asked in surprise. "I didn't think that was part of a Lady's Maid's training."
"I can. It's just something I picked up along the way." She smiled as his eyes widened and he looked at her speculatively. "Nothing too fancy, mind. But I could easily trim up the back and sides."
"Alright, then. If we get a chance, that would be lovely," he said sincerely. He reached out and took one of her hands in his, pulling her a little closer to him.
"Goodnight, Phyllis," he said, reaching out to tuck away a piece of her hair that had escaped it's elaborate knot. Miss. Baxter closed her eyes at his touch.
"Goodnight, Joseph," she breathed. With one last squeeze of his hand, she turned to head for the stairs. Looking back over her shoulder at him, she smiled. "I'd better sharpen my scissors."
"That would be nice," he said to the suddenly empty room as her footsteps faded away down the corridor. "That would be very nice indeed."
He rather doubted sleep was going to come quickly that night, as thoughts of her gentle hands moving through his hair and caressing his neck and head made his legs feel wobbly.
"It's just a trim, you fool…" Scolding himself under his breath, he hurried to the stairs leading to the servant's quarters.
Squinting against the sudden beam of sunlight in the courtyard, Mr. Molesley watched with some anxiety as Miss. Baxter cheerfully laid out a comb, a pitcher of water, and her scissors on the table. She gave the sheet a little flick, making it snap, and indicated the chair with a smile.
"It's just a trim. It's just a trim. It's just a trim," he muttered through gritted teeth as he sat awkwardly akimbo in the chair, keeping his eyes on Miss. Baxter as she prepared to drape the sheet over him.
"Are you sure you're alright, Joseph?" she asked quietly. "You've seemed nervous all morning." Raising an eyebrow, she pretended to look affronted. "I really can cut hair, you know."
"I'm fine," he assured her, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Been looking forward to it, in fact." Well, that wasn't a lie. He just wasn't going to try to explain to her why he was looking forward to it.
Miss. Baxter didn't look convinced, but she patted his shoulder and tried to shift him around in the chair. "We'd better get to it, then. I'm sure one or both of us will be called away any time."
Mr. Molesley closed his eyes as she wrapped a towel around his neck and draped the sheet over his front. He felt her fingers moving over the top of his collar and opened one eye to see a thoughtful frown on her face.
"I'll have to ask you to take off your coat and collar, Mr. Molesley. Or I won't be able to trim down where it needs it."
His heart began to skip beats as he contemplated undressing in front of her. In the courtyard. With Mr. Barrow watching with interest as he smoked in a corner with raised eyebrow. His wide eyed look at her was pleading. She removed the sheet and stepped back to allow him to stand up.
"Um…well…perhaps I should wait until my half day…" He trailed off as she rolled her eyes and gave him a exasperated look. With a sigh, he began unbuttoning his livery.
Mr. Barrow snorted and flipped his butt onto the ground. He paused on his way back in to enjoy Mr. Molesley's obvious discomfort.
"Would you like a trim, Mr. Barrow?" Miss Baxter asked briskly. "I could probably do yours this afternoon, before tea."
"I'd like to keep my ears firmly attached, thank you," he replied dryly. "Mr. Molesley is a braver man than I…something I'd never thought to say."
Mr. Molesley turned even redder and yanked his collar and tie off. "I'm sure Miss. Baxter is far too kind to cut off your ears, Mr. Barrow, regardless of the benefit to the rest of us."
Mr. Barrow's eyebrows went up and he looked at Mr. Molesley dismissively. "You seem to bring out the tiger in Mr. Molesley," he informed Miss. Baxter as he turned to go. "Maybe you can teach him how to purr next."
As he'd turned his back on them to go back inside, Mr. Barrow missed the anger that flew across Mr. Molesley's face, and the step he took towards him before Miss. Baxter took his arm and stopped him with a firm warning squeeze.
"He's just that way, Joseph," she whispered into his ear. "He's always been that way."
Mr. Molesley was breathing harshly in anger and frustration, but he began to calm down as Miss. Baxter whispered his name soothingly and stroked his arm. Exhaling deeply, he collapsed into the chair and watched his hands shake.
"I'll have Thomas Barrow one of these days," he muttered. "Knocking him for six would be worth losing me job over."
"It would not," she replied sharply, mitigating her tone with her gentle touch on his arm. "I know he's been cruel to you—"
"I don't care about that," he protested. "Well..not so much. But the way he's treated you, even after you were kind to him…"
Miss. Baxter sighed and began readying him for his haircut again. "We go way back, Thomas and I. He's not always been who he is now. He's been kind before too, and I do owe him for getting me this position."
Mr. Molesley opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again quickly. He eased back in the chair, trying to relax and failing miserably when Miss. Baxter began combing and stroking his hair.
"Am I hurting you?" she asked, perplexed at his rigid posture.
"Er…no. Not at all. I'm…uh, just trying to be still."
"You're fine," she assured him with a smile. "Just relax, Joseph. This won't take a moment."
With quick, sure movements, she began trimming the hair at the side of his temple. The hairs falling down the side of his neck made him twitch ticklishly, which made Miss. Baxter chuckle.
"Turn your head a little, Joseph…"
"I…I don't see how you do it, Phyllis."
"It's not all that hard," she said with a smile as she grasped his head gently and tilted it at the angle she wanted. "I just make sure I use the comb to keep a straight line—"
"No, not the haircut," he said with a little laugh. "I mean that way you're kind to everyone, even those who don't deserve it." He shrugged and looked off towards the door. "Especially those who don't deserve it…" She whipped the scissors back as he turned his head to look into her eyes. "You've a beautiful nature, Phyllis."
"Thank you for that," she replied with a smile. "But you need to keep still or Thomas may have the last laugh." Once again she grasped his head to move it to where she wanted it. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling it up gently, and applying the scissors.
"I've never seen the profit in holding a grudge," she murmured. "And I just can't see anyone as irredeemable. I'd make a terrible clergyman."
Mr. Molesley giggled at that. "I, for one, am glad you're not a clergyman."
Miss. Baxter gave his ear a gentle tweak and finished up the trimming across his neck. Taking a soft brush, she swiped the loose hairs off of his neck and wiped the sides of his face with the towel.
"I'd offer you a shave, but I doubt we've got the time," she teased, running her hand down his cheek, which showed not a sign of stubble. As she took her hand away, the door from the house flew open and a harried hall boy stuck his head out far enough to bellow for Mr. Molesley.
"Coming! I'm just coming!" he hollered back. Miss. Baxter silently handed him his collar and tie. When his fingers fumbled in his hurry, she grasped it and tied it neatly for him. She looked up with a smile to see his face within inches of hers.
"Everything about you is beautiful, Phyllis," he breathed. Before he could pull away, she grasped his tie a little harder and pulled him close enough to place her lips on his for a soft, chaste kiss. His eyes were filled with wonder when she pulled her head away and stepped back.
"Your coat, Mr. Molesley," she said with broad smile. He smiled back nervously, arms trembling with the strain of not reaching out to wrap around her. Mr. Carson's agitated rumbling could be heard from inside the door. Taking the coat from her hands, he shrugged into it quickly and began walking briskly towards the door.
"I'm, uh, sorry I have to rush off, Miss. Baxter. Thank you again for the trim."
"Feel free to thank me later, Mr. Molesley," she called, as Mr. Carson's bulk suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I know you're busy." Ignoring Mr. Carson's piercing look and ill tempered grumble at them both, Miss. Baxter began gathering up her things.
"Wherever have you been?" Mrs. Hughes asked her as she hurried through the door. "Her Ladyship's bell has just gone off."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I'll attend to it straight away." She watched Mr. Molesley scamper up the stairs with an indulgent smile. Mrs. Hughes followed the direction of her eyes and looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"See that you do, Miss. Baxter. See that you do."
As Miss. Baxter placed her things from the haircut aside, she was distracted by snips of Mr. Molesley's hair that whispered to the floor. Looking about her quickly, she bent down and picked up a lock of it, placing it in her sewing bag. With an enigmatic smile, she proceeded upstairs to do her job.
A/N: So...whaddaya think?