Prompt: With the family away at a garden party, he leaned back in his chair, enjoying the muted sounds of servants and maids scurrying to and fro. His gazed focused on a scrap of paper tacked to the doorjamb, "Follow the Signs". Moving into the empty hall he noticed another scrap, and another, leading him deep into the Abbey as he collected them. The curious quirk to his brow turned to a deep scowl when he saw light flickering from what should have been a locked door. What happens next?
Mrs Hughes was ordering her maids about. More than she usually would on a day the family wasn't in, but Charles didn't mind. He loved hearing the sound of her voice. Her orders were never shouted, but simply conveyed and her girls knew better than to disregard her. He stood by the stairs, watching her. She was wearing an old dress, one he particularly liked. The one he would forever associate with his collapse a long time ago, with being cared for and looked after. It followed the lines of her body, the orange embroidery the only embellishments. She had her hair done up in a softer style. She was looking beautiful, but she always did. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that.
He walked towards his pantry, hearing Mrs Patmore telling Daisy to check on the Victoria sponge and Ivy to get going on the strawberries. He smiled to himself. Whilst he was particularly fond of apple pie, he always felt a Victoria sponge was especially festive.
As he arrived at his door, he found a little note tucked between the door and the frame.
"Mr Carson, you are needed in the Drawing Room. EH."
He sighed. He had been looking forward to a nice cup of tea and just a short sit down. He was feeling his knee. He never spoke about it, but it was starting to really bother him. Another sign he was getting on. He was aware Mrs Hughes sensed something was wrong with him - she always did - but so far he had managed to keep it from her. Now he took the note and made his way to the Drawing Room where he found another note indicating he needed to take a look at the chandelier and give her his professional thoughts: thoroughly clean or replace ten or fifteen of the crystal baubles.
He rolled his eyes. This was what couldn't wait? Ridiculous. She could easily have asked him after tea. They always spent a good part of the late afternoon together going over things needing their attention in the house. But since he was here and she asked, he did take a good look at the chandelier, taking out his handkerchief to wipe one particularly filthy piece of crystal.
When he had made up his mind, it was a good twenty minutes later and he descended the stairs slowly, trying not to put too much strain on his painful knee and strode down the Servants' Hall corridor and into their shared space only to find the table laden with treats.
A Victoria sponge was placed proudly on an etagere, sandwiches were placed orderly on plates, custard tarts stood by the big teapot in front of Elsie Hughes and to her left hand, where he would sit, was an apple pie, steam still coming off it.
"What's all this?" He asked incredulously.
"Happy birthday, Mr Carson." She offered him, her accent more pronounced than usual.
"Thank you." He managed to utter and looked around the table, finding the staff all smiling at him, congratulations being called his way. Beryl Patmore smirked before saying it's a special one and he failed to understand.
"Sixty-five, Mr Carson. It's a milestone." She wiped her hands on her apron before sitting down next to Anna who was handing everyone a plate.
He knew he was turning sixty-five today. Of course he did, but it was still quite shocking to hear it being said out loud.
"Mrs Patmore!" Mrs Hughes shook her head at the cook. "Honestly."
He couldn't help but smile at her and she smiled back brilliantly.
His heart nearly stopped.
She gave him his tea, sliced off a small piece of the sponge and a big piece of the apple pie and handed the plate to him.
"Many happy returns, Mr Carson." She said and her fingers brushed the back of his hand.
"Thank you, Mrs Hughes." He replied, not noticing the looks being thrown their way from the staff.
"I do hope you are having a nice day." She asked, stirring her tea and reaching for a sandwich, waiting for his answer.
"This is a very lovely surprise, Mrs Hughes." He said, meaning every word.
"My pleasure, Mr Carson. Mrs Patmore is right: it is a bit of a milestone. And I had to pay you back for the way you made my birthday special." She blushed faintly. He remembered going out to the greenhouses to find the best flowers to give to her and procuring the best of chocolates for her from York. He would have gone to the end of the world for the perfect present, but it had to wait.
"All your birthdays should be special, Mrs Hughes."
She pressed her lips together, unable to look at him or anyone else. The quiet went unnoticed by both for them.
"You'll be having another birthday soon." He said.
She nodded.
And that was when he decided that this would be his last birthday at this long table, surrounded by so many lads and lasses he had trained with her. This would be the last birthday he wore his livery and it would be the last birthday she would preside over with a naked finger.
He had the ring ready in his nightstand. Only a few months now. Only weeks until he would formally ask her.
He was looking forward to it.