A/N: This is part of elliehopaunt's Chelsie Pride challenge on tumblr. Enjoy!
There were little rituals of daily life for which Mrs Hughes had a particular fondness. Why the ringing of the dressing gong should always be able to lift her spirits was a mystery, but today when she head its clarion call sound out from the confines of the linen cupboard, it brought a smile to her lips.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that it signalled the working day was more than half done, and therefore her evening ritual (as she now regarded it) was close by. She had not seen Mr Carson for most of the day, as she had spent a large portion of time in the guest bedrooms checking all was in order after the departure of the New Year's party guests. Mr Talbot had left a book on motor racing, which she intended to ask Lady Mary to return, otherwise everything was in order.
She had been straightening the linens to her satisfaction when the gong had sounded. Knowing there probably wouldn't be time for even a quick word until much later, Mrs Hughes thought perhaps she could catch her fiancée on the back stairs, and peeped over the balustrade to see if he'd been waylaid by anyone after the ringing of the gong. It was not the greying head of the butler she saw positioned by the gong, however, but the jet black hair of Mr Barrow.
It was rare that Mr Carson would forgo this duty and she hurried off to discover the reason for his delegation, hoping that all hell hadn't broken loose during her sojourn in the linen cupboard.
Downstairs, however, all was peace personified. Even Mrs Patmore seemed unable to find fault with any of her girls and was directing the dinner preparations calmly and cheerfully. Wonders, it seemed, would never cease.
The door to the butler's pantry was closed, but that did not deter Mrs Hughes. She merely knocked (more for convention's sake than any real intention of waiting for an invitation) and strode into the room.
Mr Carson was sitting at his desk, but he faced the window. His head was bent as he perused something in his hands. Whatever it was had been hidden by the edge of the desk, and its pull was evidently strong, for Mrs Hughes's entrance had done nothing to break his introspection.
'Wool-gathering Mr Carson?'
He glanced up and smiled at her, before glancing back down at the object in his hands.
'I suppose you could say that, Mrs Hughes. You see, I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.'
He turned to face her properly as he said the last words and brought his hands up to the desk to reveal what he had been looking at. It was a silver picture frame. One Mrs Hughes recognised instantly, although she hadn't seen it in years.
'Oh'. Mrs Hughes was not quite sure how to deal with this information. She tried to quash the instant feelings of jealous anger, but she was at a loss to understand why he might have been looking at Alice's picture after all this time, especially after the events of Christmas eve.
'I'd best be getting back to work.' Retreat was the safest option really.
'Are you not going to ask me 'whose the eyes?' Elsie?', asking Mr Carson, humour lacing his voice as he rose and started to move towards her.
Monetarily thrown by the use of her Christian name, Mrs Hughes managed a slight shrug and made to open the door, only to find the picture frame being pressed into her hand by Mr Carson who tried to convey many things with his eyes, but realising she was not in communicative mood, resorted to simply nodding at the frame to indicate she should look at it.
Resisting the urge to dash it against the wall, Mrs Hughes instead gave a tetchy sigh and looked down at the frame. She wondered if the light was playing tricks, and looked back up at him to try and gather her wits. He merely smirked and raised his eyebrows. Wrinkling her brow in confusion, she looked back down to confirm that, yes, she really was looking at herself.
It was one of those slightly stiff portraits the family insisted on from time to time, and judging from the creases it had been taken some time ago. She didn't think she'd worn that dress in years. Definitely pre war, she surmised. She briefly wondered if her aged hair would be able to sustain that past hairstyle for her wedding day, but tucked the thought away for another time, when her fiancée wasn't baffling her with his new romantic ways.
A smile played around her mouth as she looked up to find Mr Carson watching her solemnly, but with great feeling peeking around the edges of his outwardly sturdy persona.
'You never cease to surprise me, Mr Carson.'
'I came across it some months ago, whilst hunting for a since forgotten item in the attics. It's been in my desk drawer ever since, sitting atop the frame, which I'd put away after we returned from that visit to the beach.'
She smiled fondly at this memory, understanding all that he was not saying aloud by this seemingly trivial bit of information.
'And now I've been allowed to see the light of day?' she teased.
'Now you've accepted me, yes. I can look at this – at those ever so fine eyes of yours – and be reminded of how lucky I am, even when the physical you is elsewhere.
Mrs Hughes smiled brightly, shaking her head slightly at his flattery, and returned the frame to his keeping. Had she known that her smile had reached her eyes and touched the man before her in ways he hadn't thought possible mere weeks ago, she would have been very well satisfied. As it was, she was satisfied enough, for Mr Carson bent to place a kiss on her lips, and it was only the sudden yell from the direction of the kitchen that parted the lovers.
A/N: Hmm – not entirely happy with the ending, but the idea over the picture's been running about my mind for a few days. Reviews always appreciated