A/N: This was never on my list of things to write (which grows constantly – go away plot bunnies), but a couple of reviews to 'Paying it Forward' hoped that it wouldn't be the end, and asked to see what happened between Molesley and Miss Baxter, and who am I to deny my lovely readers. You don't have to read that first, although there are a couple of parallels. I also incorporated one of the lines that have been released as a teaser, which has been doing the rounds on tumblr, so if you spot that, yey! It's just one of the people who could have said it, and although I hope it's a Chelsie line, I'd be quite happy to find Mr Molesley saying it! Happy Christmas everyone!
Mr Molesley walked up the long path which led from the village to the abbey. Dusk had long since fallen about him, but he did not rush, having gained permission to miss serving tea so long as he was back in plenty of time for dinner.
He had spent hours at the school house, the only one in the building, preparing lesson plans for the following year. It was Christmas Eve, and certainly the children in his charge had other things on their minds besides learning, but he wanted to ensure he started the year well.
He would, after all, be teaching full time from the end of January – his start date having been postponed slightly due to the Carsons' unexpected retirement – and he wanted to be as sure of himself as possible.
There were other things he wanted to be sure of, and they all involved a woman who had supported his every decision and had endeared herself to him almost from the first moment he had met her.
He loved Miss Baxter, of that he was certain, and as he moved closer to the abbey, he grew ever more determined that tonight would be the time he proposed. He had attempted to turn other conversations to the subject, but it had always seemed to be the wrong moment, besides which she was worth so much more than a whispered question in the middle of dinner, when everyone else was about them.
The abbey was in sight now and he could feel the edge of a most important box jolt against his thigh from its place in his pocket. He had carried it with him for weeks now, not wanting to be caught without it should an opportune moment arise. He was going to do it properly, she deserved that much. She deserved so much more and he only hoped he could give it to her.
Stepping into the warm servant's hall, he was surprised at how peaceful it seemed, even with the important dinner whose preparations had caused so much aggravation during the week. True, Mrs Patmore and Daisy were rattling about their domain, clattering pans and calling out the occasional question, but there was none of the histrionics that had become part of the cook's method of instruction for so many years.
He moved into the communal dining hall hoping to find Miss Baxter, but only met Andy and Mr Barrow giving a final polish to the candelabras that were to be used that evening. Miss Baxter was nowhere to be found and he resigned himself to the fact the dressing gong had probably been rung, and he wouldn't have an opportunity until much later.
It did seem a little early still though, his common sense told him, and his thoughts were confirmed by the sight of Mr Bates leaving the boot room, his Lordship's dress shoes held tight in his hand.
'Any news on Anna?' he asked conversationally, trying to deflect his nerves.
'She's just as she was yesterday.' Mr Bates sighed, although he smiled at the mere thought of his wife, and moved off upstairs.
Mr Bates always liked to move ahead of the dressing gong, especially after Lord Grantham's health scare, and the fact he was only just going up gave Mr Molesley renewed hope that he had not missed his chance.
He stood in the corridor and pondered his options. The door to Mr Carson's pantry was ajar and the Butler moved about, clearly preparing the wine for the evening. There was no conversation coming from the room, just the murmur of the Butler as he ran through the choices for the evening, therefore Mrs Hughes was clearly elsewhere. Her door was closed, but he thought he heard her voice.
If anyone knew where Miss Baxter was, she would.
He knocked and entered. 'Mrs Hughes, I was wondering if you'd seen … oh!'
There she was, looking glorious in the lamplight, and suddenly all his preparations flew from his head. He should have waited, he needed more time, how could he have had the audacity to think she would welcome what he had to say.
He almost retreated, but the smile in her eyes, which sparkled with what he sincerely hoped were not tears, gave him strength when his own bravery had almost dwindled to nothing. Now was the moment, no other would present itself so perfectly.
'Ah …. Well. Miss Baxter – I was wondering if you've got time for a chat in the courtyard?'
She did, and Mrs Hughes even generously suggested she would delay the ringing of the gong, and he found himself ushering her out through the door.
They stayed close to the entrance, the rest of the yard being shrouded in darkness. He wanted to be able to see her face, to know at once if he had overstepped the mark. He had, however, not the smallest idea of how to begin to tell her of his feelings; to ask the question that would hopefully change his life for the better, and they stood in silence for at least thirty seconds until she rescued him, as she was always doing, and spoke herself.
'Did you manage to prepare everything as you hoped?'
'I did' he replied, allowing a satisfied smile to grace his lips. 'and I only hope the children take to the medieval monarchs as they did the Stuarts.'
'I'm sure they will – they seem to like you well enough now. I cannot believe that you're actually going to leave service in a month.'
She grew pensive and looked at her hands before raising her eyes back to his, a quiet smile, which did not quite reach her eyes, fixed on her face.
'Don't misunderstand me, but I always thought you so very suited to your role in the house. It seems strange for you to have another vocation.'
He chuckled softly at that, knowing precisely what she meant. 'I thought so too at first, but then I realised it was something I clung to because I thought it was the only thing I was any good at. Plainly that's not the case. I find now that I am quite ready for a life without the livery and the hierarchy.'
He took a deep breath and moved closer to her, reaching to take one of her hands in his. This was it, everything led to this point. His voice shook only slightly.
'The only thing I'm not ready for is a life without you.'
Her eyes grew wide at the explicit declaration. 'Joseph?' she whispered, searching his face, trying to read the determined look in his eyes.
'Phyllis' he answered, squeezing her hands, although he really wished to stroke her face. he wouldn't allow himself that liberty. Not yet.
'I'm not one for fine words. More often than not, I find I'm saying the wrong thing before I'm even aware, but I do know what I want to say now.
She smiled at him, squeezing his hands in return to let him know she would listen to whatever he had to say, however he chose to say it. He took strength from that, from the fact she wasn't trying to silence him and plunged into a speech that was only half prepared and which he occasionally fell over in his attempt to impress the sincerity of his words on her. But he spoke from the heart, which in the end was all that mattered.
'When you came to Downton, you impressed everyone with your calm persona and steady work ethic, but what affected me from the start was your ability to see the good in every person and situation, and your willingness to forgive. It broke my heart to know how your past had hurt you, but I was beyond proud to see how you dealt with it this past year. You are the best woman I have ever known, and I am truly blessed to have the gift of your friendship. You've supported and cheered me on through all these changes and I cannot imagine my life without you.
I love you Phyllis.' He paused, removing the box from his pocket and sinking on to one knee in a fluid movement which would have surprised all who knew him.
'I love you. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'
He opened the box, revealing a ring with a small ruby, and forced himself to maintain eye contact with the woman who had the power to make or break him in that moment.
Phyllis Baxter had been unable to stop the tears from flowing as she had listened to his words, and they fell faster as she watched him sink to his knee and heard the words she had wondered if he would ever say. He needed a response, but she wasn't sure if her voice held the strength needed to answer. For his sake, she had to try.
'Oh Joseph! Of course. Yes. I'll marry you.'
His face split into the widest smile she had ever seen and he was instantly on his feet, laughing a little at his happiness, a laughter with which she soon joined.
He drew the ring from its box and as she raised her left hand for him to slip it on to, he looked directly into her eyes and whispered 'who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies.'
She gasped as she understood the weight of the compliment he was giving her and silently shook her head, trying to deflect the honour he bestowed on her. The action was arrested as she felt his fingers brush her cheek, removing the trace of her tears, and then her heartrate increased as his hand moved to her waist.
He stepped towards her, his hand now confident in its new place and gave her a smile which was half shy, half hopeful. She merely had to return it to give him all the permission he needed, and he inclined his head and touched his lips to hers.
He drew back all too soon, but the break in contact did not distress her, for it allowed her to look deep into his eyes and affirm something she had waited far too long to say.
'I love you too Joseph.' she whispered before she leant forward to recapture his lips for what turned out to be a much more passionate kiss than the first.
Model servants that they were, they did not linger outside too long, and soon Miss Baxter was dashing up the stairs to start preparing the ladies for the evening. She caught sight of Mrs Hughes leaving her husband's pantry and made sure that she spied the flash of her engagement ring, and silently promised a full retelling later.
It was hard to say who was happiest for the new couple. Certainly Lady Grantham cried when she noticed the ring as Miss Baxter was fixing he hair, and Anna swore to name her first born after one of them (Joseph, it turned out was an excellent name for the chubby babe who made himself known at one am on New Year's Day), but it was beyond doubt to all who saw them that the happiest of all were Mr Molesley and Miss Baxter themselves who had gained each other and the joy they so richly deserved. Finally.
A/N: Happy Christmas everyone! May I take this opportunity to thank all you lovely people who have left reviews for me since I started writing. Special thanks go to the anons, and those of you I feel I know a little better through tumblr. A review or two would set me up forever!